Overcoming Obstacles
by BroflovskiFan
Summary: Ch. 10 up. Mounting pressure puts strain on Stan and Kyle's relationship. Between parents, deception and shrinks, only one question remains: will Kyle risk losing his family, or lose Stan? Sequel to AESAD.
1. Of Burnination and Long Distance Love

Overcoming Obstacles

OOOH! Wow. So it's time to finally start the sequel! Fun times for all! Except not so much this time around. Still humour, angst and boo hoo sad too. It's not going to start off that way though! Enjoy!

Synopsis: Sequel to AESAD. Shaky ground lies ahead for Stan and Kyle as the boys deal with coming out and being in a long distance relationship. There may not be a happy ending for the perfect couple after all.

This story is dedicated to my beloved e-wife. Indiana Beach Bum, for being a 'continuing source of inspiration to me' .

Please leave a review! I want to see if you guys liked this first chapter!

Disclaimer: Don't own South Park.

---

Chapter 1 – Of Burnination and Long Distance Love

Eighteen year old Kyle Broflovski tapped his hand impatiently against the dashboard of his car, waiting for the traffic lights to change colours. His car's clock read 4:36, meaning he was running a full five minutes behind according to his own tight schedule.

"Come on, come onnnn," he urged the light. Why did it always take so long when he was in a hurry? He couldn't run behind today. Today was important.

Kyle had meticulously planned out every detail, every single, tiny, miniscule, insignificant part of his plan, refusing to allow anything to go wrong. But, as always seemed to happen, something went wrong. And now he was five minutes behind.

The light changed colours, and Kyle sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to Moses. He sped past all the other cars; if they saw him at all, it would have only been the shiny metallic blue tint of Blitzkrieg as the Ferrari zoomed past them.

Kyle was and wasn't your typical teenager. He was tall, nearly 6'1 in fact, and built slender. A mass of mahogany curls cascaded down the sides of his head, framing his face. A pair of fierce green-blue eyes gazed out on the world, always taking in information, always calculating. It was on rare occasion that something was not going on behind them. Generally if one was asked to comment on Kyle's looks, the words more likely heard would be 'cute' or 'charming' or 'handsome', as opposed to 'hot', 'sexy', or even 'fuckable.' There was probably only one person who would describe Kyle like that, and he wasn't here right now.

Kyle wore his dark green Harvard University sweater that was quickly becoming his new trademark, his old hat discarded somewhere between the ninth and tenth grades. It was no surprise that he was attending an Ivy League school; after all, his father was a lawyer, and Kyle HAD graduated at the top of his class. Destined for greatness, that's what his best friend had always said.

"Oh, goddamnit," he cursed as he hit yet another red light. Things were not going his way. He prayed the few minutes wouldn't mess up his plan. There had been a car accident on the freeway, slowing down traffic. Kyle had gone from being 22 minutes ahead of schedule to being behind schedule. But now he was off of the freeway and nearing his destination with every breath he took. His stomach squirmed in anticipation. He had, after all, not seen his boyfriend in nearly a month and a half.

A wide grin spread across the boy's face as he pictured what Stan's reaction would be when he showed up unexpectedly at his dorm room. Kyle had had a midterm the night before, leaving a full week between today and his final one; the perfect opportunity. He had been poking and prodding Stan incessantly about his workload and schedule almost since the day they had left each other to return to university. It turned out that Stan had had one two days before, and was out in the clear for a week and a half.

Kyle was pretty sure that God loved him. Or at least condoned gay relationships.

But of course, Stan would have become suspicious of the fact that they both had roughly a week between exams, so Kyle had told Stan that he had two midterms this week; one in a business ethics course and one in a common law practices one. Kyle had also told him he was in the Harvard library for the day studying, and that he'd bring his cell phone with him. That way if Stan called his room, he would 'know' why Kyle wasn't there.

But of course, nothing guaranteed that Stan himself would be in his room when Kyle arrived, so two weeks ago he had called Stan up with a plan in mind.

_Flashback_

"Hllo?" Stan answered his phone while yawning. There was usually only one person who'd call him so late at night, and that was Kyle.

"Hey Stan," the voice said, confirming the caller. This was not uncommon; Kyle was often doing homework up until the sun rose and then he'd go to bed, if he slept at all that night. Stan didn't mind though. Kyle could call anytime at all, and Stan would still have been happy to hear his voice.

"Oh hey dude, what's up?"

"We need a song."

Stan moaned. Except maybe for this reason. "What? Kyle, it's three o clock in the morning. Couldn't this have waited?"

"No. We need a song."

"Why?" Stan scratched his back.

"Because all couples do," Kyle reasoned with him. He had had to swallow his pride to do this; like hell they needed a 'song'. The notion was just so… gay.

"Well just pick a song then!"

"No, you need in on this."

"Kyle, I don't know how badly your homework has been affecting your brain, but I really don't care."

"Come on. Just pick one."

"What about our Code Blue song?"

Kyle snorted at this. "I don't think they're allowed to play that one on the radio."

Stan was baffled. "On the radio? What the fuck Kyle?"

"Choose another one."

Stan searched his still half-asleep brain, coming up with little to choose from. "Afroman – Because I Got High?"

Kyle had laughed loudly at this. "Where the hell did that come from?"

Stan had shrugged even though Kyle couldn't seen him. "Iunno. Does it matter?"

Kyle was still laughing. "Fine then. Turn on the radio on the 18th between 4 and 6 pm. Be in your room; I'm calling you afterwards. Bye Stan!" And he had hung up, leaving Stan confused and weary. Stan hadn't even bothered to call him back, asking what the hell was going on; within minutes he had fallen back asleep.

_End Flashback_

Kyle snorted as he was released from the latest red light. He had called Stan about half an hour ago to 'say hello', or rather, make sure he was in his room. Stan would be listening to the radio intently right now for a song that would never come. Probably for a dedication that would never come either. Leaving songs on the radio was, in Kyle's opinion, one of the lamest things a couple could so. 'Oh cutesy bunny baby I love you forever and here's the song that was playing on the night we kissed!' was not Kyle's style in any way. There WAS no song when he and Stan had first kissed.

Kyle had long since been trying to decide what kiss had counted as their 'first kiss.' It had technically been during an unfortunate game of spin the bottle at a Christmas party, in which both of them had been forced into it. Kyle had later kissed Stan to try to get Kenny to leave them alone, which had failed. Then Stan had kissed Kyle in his room, but he had been too surprised to do anything back. Kyle liked to believe their REAL first kiss was in the front of his car, on the way to the hospital after an unfortunate incident involving the stairs, a wall and a broken hand.

Kyle flexed his fingers as he drove. The splints hadn't even been off for a week, and he was still getting used to the feel of it. Typing up papers had been such a bitch to do the past while; Kyle was practically jumping for joy when it was time to have them removed. Not to mention it made driving a lot easier as well.

Kyle checked the map again. He had roughly half an hour to go until he'd get to DeVry. Driving from Massachusetts to Ohio had taken a while – almost fourteen hours when pit, gas, and food stops were totaled in. He had left the previous night around 2:30 in the morning. Kyle had just finished his midterm at 7pm that day, and had spent the remaining time packing the few things he needed and pacing his room, trying to find a solution for every possible thing that could go wrong, from 'what if Stan wasn't feeling well?' to 'what if Stan was captured by a band of pirates?' Hey, knowing his life, it could happen.

Kyle hadn't yet thought of a solution for that one.

Traffic, however, was completely out of his control. Kyle had in the end left half an hour early, and thank God he had, or else he would have been running even further behind. And so it happened that Kyle, once again, had not slept for two nights.

Kyle had come into contact with Stan's roommate, some kid named Dylan, a few weeks back. Stan and Dylan had an interconnecting room, meaning that to get to Stan's room, he had to walk through Dylan's. And Kyle figured it would probably have been for the better if he didn't show up at some kid's door he had never seen before, having to explain himself. He wanted things to run as smoothly as possible.

So he had hacked into Stan's MSN yet again and retrieved the name, just as he had with Stan's ex-girlfriend before. When Stan had found out about it that time, he had threatened to change his password, but he must have forgotten, because it was the same as always. Not that it would have mattered; Kyle would have found a way into it whether Stan changed the password or not. He was good with computers like that.

When Kyle had first talked to Dylan, Dylan had been a little suspicious of him. That tended to happen when random people started talking to you claiming to know your roommate. He explained his plan to him, and after verifying that Stan was, in fact, his boyfriend, Dylan was willing to lend his help. How could he NOT have been able to verify it anyways? Stan had never shut up about Kyle, even when they weren't dating, something which had driven his ex mad. Not literally though. Mandy was insane to begin with.

Dylan had come from Ohio, and was a philosophy major. After he and Kyle had become acquainted, they had spent several hours debating religion and current events, determined to trump each other. They had had to declare a draw on numerous occasions.

Kyle didn't how this all would have worked out if it wasn't for Dylan's help. Dylan had sent him directions on exactly how to get to their dorm room from the main university entrance, something Kyle would not have been able to ask Stan for fear of being far too obvious. Dylan had agreed to stay in his room from four to six to make sure Stan didn't leave and to let Kyle in when he arrived. And also to delay Stan if, for some reason, Kyle was severely delayed and wouldn't make it there until past six.

In that case, Stan would probably have called him, demanding to know what sort of joke he was pulling. Kyle had two excuses – one, that the damn radio station fucked it up somehow, and two, that maybe they were just running behind and the song would be played shortly. Stan was smart, Kyle knew, and would suspect him of doing something more than just playing some lame song, but Kyle had been very careful to hide his plans, and hoped that Stan was still totally clueless about it.

---

Meanwhile, Stan was restlessly sitting in his room, playing Internet games and basically killing time. His radio was on of course, just like Kyle had told him. He sighed, pushing a strand of jet black hair from his face. He was practically the same height as Kyle, although he was built more muscular than his significant other, and was probably the one more likely to be described as 'hot' or 'sexy'. He knew that there had to be more to this than just some dumb song being played. Stan suspected the song was some sort of decoy, but like hell if he knew for what.

He stared out the second story window, watching people walk around on the ground below. After a few moments, he turned back to the screen, where 'YOU LOSE' flashed bright red in his face. He clicked the game off and leaned back on his chair. If Kyle wanted something to stay hidden, it would. And it irritated Stan beyond all belief, because he really wanted to know what the hell his boyfriend was up to. He blew another strand of hair out of his face in exasperation, and closed his eyes, willing to see into Kyle's head via telepathy. After a moment he gave up; Kyle, after all, was the one with the slight psychic ability, not him. Stan opened a textbook, intending to do homework of some kind, but within minutes he had ditched it in favour of another Internet game.

'Burninated!' the screen read before him as he smote yet another peasant. Stan slowly let out a breath of air. Burninating things would have been a lot more fun if Kyle were there.

---

Kyle's heart jumped to his throat as he turned onto the final street separating Stan and himself. This was it; this was the final length. Giving himself something to do, Kyle drained the last of his cold coffee from a few hours ago, grimacing at the stale taste. His hand twitched, and then his eye. It had been far too long since he last saw Stan. Basically the only things that had kept him going were the frequent phone calls, his plan and the (ahem) memories in the back seat of Blitzkrieg. Everything he had planned was coming together rapidly. Kyle found himself breathing faster as he urged his body to calm down. He vaguely wondered if asthma was contagious.

Kyle's brain had started to go on overload the second he noticed a sign gesturing towards the main parking area to DeVry. What if Stan wasn't there after all? What if the buildings got mixed up? What he missed out on some crucial part of the plan? What if he got lost? What if Dylan forgot? What if that song really DID play, and Stan left thinking it was over? What if Stan was with someone else? What if Stan was with a crab person? What if Stan was brutally murdered by a crab person? What if Stan WAS a crab person?

"Get a grip, Kyle," he said to himself as he pulled into the nearest parking space, turning off his engine. He undid his seatbelt then leaned forwards, resting his head lightly against the steering wheel. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what his anger management class back in ninth grade had taught him when he needed to calm down. He breathed in slowly, and exhaled even slower. He was finally there. At DeVry University, hundreds of miles away from Harvard where his parents expected him to be. He didn't come all this way for them. He came all this way for Stan. And somewhere, Stan was subconsciously waiting for Kyle to burst into his dorm room and sweep him off of his feet.

He hoped that the few days he'd be there would be enough. And even if it wasn't, reading week was only two weeks away at this point, and they'd both be coming home then. And he'd be taking a plane this time too. Fuck leaving Blitzkrieg behind for a while – Stan was his priority.

Kyle snorted at his luck. It was on rare occasion that reading week occurred during the exact same days for two completely different universities, as far as he knew. Either someone up there really liked him, or all this good luck was making up for some future bad event. Kyle liked to believe the former.

Kyle was just about to exit the car when his cell phone rang, making the poor boy jump ten feet in the air, narrowly missing his head on the roof of his car. He saw Stan's name light up the tiny screen, and Kyle resisted the urge to vomit out his lungs. That was his boyfriend's area of expertise, not his own.

Kyle flipped open his phone. "Hey Stan."

"I'm so bored," Stan whined.

_Heh, not for long you aren't_, Kyle thought to himself.

"Well, what the hell do you want me to do about it?" he chose to respond instead.

Stan flopped onto his bed carelessly. "Iunno, something!" He complained. "When the hell is this song going to come on? I want to go out and do something."

"Soon," Kyle promised. "And then you can go out and do whatever the hell you want." Kyle was tempted to hang up on Stan so he could start hacking his way across DeVry. He rifled for the campus map that was buried underneath an assortment of things including a map of Ohio and an empty french fry carton.

Stan sighed on the other end, flipping over his desk chair with his feet. It landed with a rather loud thump. "Kyle, what exactly are you up to? I'm going out of my mind trying to figure you out."

Kyle played the innocent bystander. "What would I be up to? I'M going out of MY mind here trying to memorize these notes."

Stan growled, frustrated with his counterpart. "I know. Just – do me a favour, and give yourself a break, alright? You're going to have a nervous breakdown one of these days."

"Promise," Kyle said dutifully. "I'll talk to you later Stan."

"Love you."

"Love you too." Kyle turned off his cell and slowly exited the car to begin his trek to Stan's residence.

It didn't turn out to be much of a trek after all. Just as Dylan had said, the building was really easy to find. Kyle darted between three or four ominous brick lecture halls before locating the place dead ahead of him, complete with a tacky gold eagle at the front. Nearly every college and university had one – apparently it represented brains, or something? Kyle's knees wobbled upon sight of the residence, but somehow he managed to remain upright and continue walking. As he passed by, he noticed several people staring at him, even a few glaring. He suspected that today wasn't the best of days to be wearing his Harvard University sweater. Kyle shoved his hands into his pockets, wishing he had brought a coat along with him as the chilly February air nipped at him.

Upon reaching the building, Kyle practically flung himself inside away from the cruel cold, receiving even more cold glances from DeVry enthusiasts. Ignoring them, he waited a few moments to warm up, then located a set of stairs, clamboring up to the second of four levels.

'Right, right, left, room 2035,' Kyle recited inside his head. His hands were visibly shaking and he was moving in quick jerks. His stomach had turned itself inside out, and his heart was beating so loud and fast that he wouldn't have been surprised if someone came out from one of the rooms and yelled at him to keep it down.

And there it was. Room 2035 in all it's magnificent glory. Kyle beamed just looking at the door, deciding there and then that this was his most favourite door in the entire world.

This was it. The moment that he had been waiting for, that all his planning had gone into.

The excited redhead took a final deep breath before knocking lightly on the door. It opened moments later, revealing who Kyle assumed to be Dylan. He was shorter than Kyle, with dark brown hair and even darker eyes.

'Kyle?' Dylan mouthed silently at the boy in question, who nodded in response. Dylan hesitated, looking him up and down.

"Nice sweater," he whispered to Kyle, before beckoning him in with a smirk on his face.

Dylan's room was very plain. The walls were white with blue bed sheets. There was a Playboy calendar on the wall and several posters. Papers littered his desk.

"Does he have any clue at all?" He hissed at Kyle, who was becoming paler by the second.

'I don't think so,' A very nervous Kyle hissed back. Dylan nodded, indicating the door leading into Stan's room with his hand before sitting back down at his desk.

Kyle refused himself another second to contemplate his plan. He quickly walked over to the door and knocked on it loudly.

"What the hell do you want Dylan?" Stan shouted from within. He was busy trying to balance a pencil on his chin. Kyle melted at the sound of his boyfriend's voice, not made artificial by global satellites. Dylan snorted at Stan's response.

"Just open the door, you lazy retard!" Dylan shouted back while laughing, saving Kyle from having to say anything.

Stan grumbled something from within before the sound of his footsteps were heard approaching the door on the other side. Kyle stiffened as the doorknob turned.

The door swung open inwards, revealing Stan. He was looking ratty in his grey pajama top and blue pants. He looked at Kyle, and it took a moment for him to register who exactly it was standing before him. His eyes widened in pure shock.

"Hey-" was the only word Kyle managed to get out before the door slammed in his face, narrowly missing his nose.

Dylan, who was watching the whole thing, doubled over laughing, nearly falling off his chair in the process as Kyle stood at the door, utterly bewildered. But before the boy had a chance to respond to Stan's actions, the door was yanked open again, and a very ecstatic Stan Marsh flung himself into the arms of his boyfriend, causing Kyle to stagger backwards.

"Oh my God!" He exclaimed shrilly while clutching onto Kyle's sweater as if his life depended on it. He drew back, touching his boyfriend's hair, cheeks, shoulders and chest before throwing himself back into his arms.

Kyle laughed as he returned the embrace, sporadically placing his hands all over his torso before settling in at his waist, drawing the happy boy closer towards himself. It felt so good to have his boyfriend in his arms once again. He never wanted to let him go.

"Holy shit Kyle! You're here – and – and –" Stan babbled, too encompassed in his excitement to worry about making any sense.

"Is – is this how you always greet visitors? Slamming the door in their face?" Kyle tried to joke. Stan's hands on him felt so good. He was quickly losing all his verbal skills taught to him before kindergarten. The only thing he could focus on was his best friend, right there, right then. Kyle placed both his hands on Stan's face, drawing his head in towards his own, and engulfed him in a completely mind blowing kiss. All that time apart, all that emptiness and depression, had been replaced with sheer euphoria within seconds.

The kiss didn't last too long as both the boys were grinning from ear to ear, making it very difficult to do anything. Stan hadn't felt so good in ages. Something flickered on in the back of his mind.

"You – you said you had midterms, you liar!" He exclaimed, letting out an amused grunt while gouging his face into the crevice between Kyle's neck and shoulders.

"I know!" Kyle exclaimed, giddy with happiness. He closed his eyes and breathed in Stan's scent, holding him even tighter to his body.

"And – and, I just called you, and – and you said you were studying!"

"I KNOW!" Kyle exclaimed again, even louder than before. Intelligent responses were out of the picture for the moment.

A rather loud 'ahem' caught both the boys' attention. They turned their heads, still clutching onto each other, to face a very amused Dylan.

"As much as I hate to break up this gay-fest," he began, "I'd appreciate it if you could continue this elsewhere. Like not in my room."

Stan blushed. "Right." He guided Kyle into his bedroom, kicking the door shut. He took the precaution of locking it as well.

"And how about a little courtesy music?" Dylan's muffled voice yelled. Stan snorted, turning his radio on louder, where lo and behold, Because I Got High by Afroman was playing. Kyle laughed rather loudly.

Stan looked at him, mildly confused. "What? Didn't you request it?"

Kyle shook his head. "No, man. It was all a ploy to keep you in your room."

Stan beamed. "ARRRGH you asshole!" He exclaimed, kissing his boyfriend again while running his hands up and down his sides.

"So – how did this all work out?" Stan asked when he had broken the kiss.

"Well-" Kyle began, but Stan interrupted him

"Actually, I don't care. You can tell me later," he decided. "I'd rather do something else right now." And with that, Stan shoved Kyle rather forcefully backwards onto his bed. Before the other boy had time to even protest, Stan had clambered on top of him, sitting on his stomach while pinning his arms above his head.

"Your hand looks good," Stan commented before leaning down and kissing his boyfriend. Kyle eagerly kissed him back while struggling with Stan's grip on his wrists. After a moment, he managed to break free. He grabbed onto Stan's arms, forcing the other boy down on top of him. Stan's tongue pried between Kyle's lips easily, allowing access into his mouth.

Kyle moaned in sheer delight as he felt Stan's tongue explore the inside of his mouth before coming into contact with his own tongue. He hadn't felt this way in ages. It really had been too long. Kyle slid his hands under the back of Stan's shirt, feeling his soft skin underneath.

After a few minutes, Stan moved away from Kyle's mouth in favour of his neck. The time they had been apart hadn't affected Stan's memory of what places exactly made Kyle tick the most. They weren't hard to find – Kyle was pretty obvious about them.

"Oh God …Stan…" Kyle breathed as his boyfriend made it to his collarbone. He tilted his head back, allowing himself to be consumed with pure bliss. "I've missed you…so much…"

"I've missed you too Kyle," Stan murmured, enjoying the pleasure he was causing his best friend. Kyle weakly reached between their bodies, grabbing onto Stan's crotch. Stan gasped in surprise. He completely forgot about Kyle's neck as he drove his body into his boyfriend's, who had yet to let go. He felt he may explode.

"Aaaah…Kyle…" he moaned. "Coming here…is the best idea you've ever had…"

Kyle finally released his hold, raising his hands up to grasp either side of Stan's sweating face. After a moment, Stan reopened his eyes and found himself gazing into those of his companion.

"Isn't it?" he replied with a smirk on his face. Stan smiled, and Kyle pressed his lips softly against Stan's once more. He gently lifted Stan's shirt up over his head, and Stan did the same to him. A contended sigh escaped both boys as their bare chests came into contact.

No further words were spoken as Stan and Kyle picked up from where they had left off.

---

"Wait, so you're telling me Dylan was in on this the whole time?"

Kyle nodded. Quite a chunk of time had passed since he had arrived now, and the boys were still lying on Stan's bed, both topless. Kyle had one arm wrapped loosely around the back of Stan's neck and his shoulder, and one of Stan's hands rested lightly against the other's chest. Kyle had just finished telling him about his whole plan, and Stan was, quite literally, dumbfounded.

"And you've been planning this for over a month?" Stan was still in shock that Kyle had thought to plan this all out, and in such detail too.

"Yep," Kyle responded, feeling rather pleased with himself. After all, his plan had gone over nearly perfectly. "And you had no clue, right?"

Stan smiled broadly, caressing Kyle's chest. He hadn't had even the slightest clue. "You are so awesome."

They lay together for another while, enjoying each other's presence until Stan's stomach grumbled rather loudly, informing both of them that it was time to eat three hours ago. They decided that they would walk to a nearby pub that Stan knew as they were pretty sure the residence cafeteria wouldn't be serving dinner at 10 pm.

"Ugh, dude where's my shirt?" Kyle demanded after gazing around the room. Stan snickered, making Kyle very suspicious.

"Stan, what did you do with my shirt? And my glasses too, for that matter."

Stan tried to shrug innocently, much like a child. "I don't know."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "You are a horrible liar, you know that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Kyle sniggered before rolling on top of Stan. "You're a lying bastard, and you're going to tell me now where you put them."

Stan's eyes flashed with defiance. "Make me."

"Okay." Kyle kissed Stan on the mouth. "Where'd you put them?"

"I'll never tell you." Stan was clearly enjoying being 'forced' to tell even more than Kyle was enjoying trying to make him.

Kyle moved down to Stan's neck, kissing and biting gently. "Where'd you put them Stan?"

"You'll never find out."

Kyle opted for his boyfriend's chest. "Tell me."

"No."

Kyle's final attempt was at his boyfriend's 'weak' spot, just above his belly button. After a few minutes, Kyle stopped. "Tell me now?" It was more of a question than anything else.

"Oh God…NO!" Stan practically shouted the last part. He sneered at Kyle. "I told you – you can't make me."

Kyle hoisted himself off of Stan and instead sat on his stomach. "Fine. You leave me with no other choice-"

Stan's eyes widened in horror. "You wouldn't dare."

Kyle grinned at the expression on Stan's face. "Oh, wouldn't I?" And before Stan could say anything else about it, Kyle had jabbed his fingers into Stan's stomach, tickling him brutally.

Stan immediately burst into laughter, writhing beneath his boyfriend. "Ah! Kyle, stop it!" He tried to exclaim between breaths. "You make it HURT, you asshole!"

But Kyle was unforgiving. "Where's my shirt?"

Tears were now streaming down Stan's face as he continued to squirm, trying to evade Kyle. "Never!"

"Where is it?"

"You're going to give me an asthma attack Kyle!"

"Where?"

"No!" Stan desperately tried to push Kyle's hands away with his own, and failed. "You're going to bruise me!"

"Oh well," was Kyle's careless response.

"Fucking…hell!" Stan wheezed out, finally thinking of a solution. He jabbed Kyle hard into either side, causing Kyle to suck in a sharp breath, momentarily stopping his torture to grab his sides. Stan used the time to knock Kyle over off the bed. However, Kyle was quick, and as he fell he grabbed Stan's arm, taking him down with him.

Needless to say, they both landed in a laughing heap on the ground.

"My shirt!" Kyle exclaimed, seeing it a few feet away from them. He started to get up to go get it, but Stan grabbed him by the leg, causing him to fall back down.

"Goddamnit Stan let me get my shirt!" Kyle laughed while trying to shake him off. He finally managed to shake Stan off of him and succeeded in getting his shirt and putting it back on. Stan in the meanwhile had given up and retrieved his own shirt along with Kyle's glasses. He snuck up behind Kyle and wrapped him in a hug, passing his glasses to him with one hand.

"Here."

"Thanks."

Stan lowered his arms to Kyle's stomach and rested his head against the back of his boyfriend's neck. "When are you leaving?"

Kyle placed his own hands overtop of Stan's. "Two days."

Stan grinned, satisfied with his response. "Excellent. Let's go get food."

"Let's. I'm starving. Oh, and we need to bring my stuff back here from Blitzkrieg too."

"Alright. That must have been a long fucker of a drive."

"It was."

Stan remembered to turn off his radio before he and Kyle exited the room, finding Dylan on his computer just as before.

Stan wrinkled his nose. "Dude, have you been here this whole time?"

Dylan turned around in his seat to acknowledge him. "I should ask you the same thing. No, I left for dinner, went to the library to take out some books, talked to a few people then came back. What the hell have you been up to? Actually, forget it. I don't want to know." Both Stan and Kyle sniggered at his last comment.

"We're going to get food. Later," Stan said as they made their way to the door.

"Later. Oh, and Kyle! You totally owe me a debate for everything I did! And this time, you can't copy and paste your answers from sites."

"Damnit. And that was my best tactic too. Thanks for everything Dylan."

"No problem." Dylan saluted them as Stan took Kyle by the hand and led him out the doors.

Stan held Kyle by the waist the entire walk to the pub. It was nice to be able to show their affection for each other in public without fear of repercussion. They talked all the way to the pub, and on the way back, they had a minor detour behind a building. After a few minutes, Stan and Kyle both concluded that making out under a starry night in the freezing cold wasn't nearly as romantic as either thought it would be, and never tried anything of the sort again for the rest of their natural lives.

Instead, they trekked back to Stan's room, turned the radio back on and performed the best sequel ever made to what they had been doing previously.

As they fell asleep in each other's arms, neither of them could decipher a moment where they had truly been happier than they were right then.

---

Like it? Hate it? Want to beat me brutally because of it? Let me know!


	2. Their Own Volition

Wooooo sorry it took so long you guys! I've been busy writing a huge ass university report, and then moving back into my rez apartment! I'll try not to take so long next time.

Thank you all for such a positive response on my first chapter. I couldn't be more pleased.

And before I forget! (Insert shameless promotion here).

EVERYONE. I have directed you in the past to Indiana Beach Bum's Fighting the Truth, and I trust I have not led you astray. Except in the fact that it broke all of our hearts. No Stan!

There is another story that demands your immediate attention. Go read Cszemis's The Oedipus Complex. An awesome story with a little bit of every pairing for everyone. Written in true South Parkian style, the VERY talented writer requires several hundred more reviews than what she has. This story will make you laugh your ass off, it's that good. Go check it out.

Chapter 2 – Their Own Volition

Kyle and Stan awoke the next day in a very unusual manner. This could have been due to a number of things that gave them a slightly odd appearance. Perhaps it was the fact that Stan had become cold in the night and as a result, was wearing both his and Kyle's pajama tops. Or perhaps it was the fact that Kyle himself had become cold and tried to fit inside his shirt along with Stan, and upon failing miserably, had settled for Stan's arms around him. He however, still managed to get one of his arms threaded through Stan's shirt which awkwardly curled around his boyfriend's back.

Or perhaps it was the fact that they decided to have a wrestling match in the middle of the night which had resulted in them falling off the bed, taking most of it along with them. The mattress had slid half off the bed and the boys were lying on the floor in a crumpled heap a few feet away, sans blankets.

Kyle was the first to awaken, as was usual. It took him a few moments to remember he was in Stan's room, and a few more to remember how the hell they had gotten on the floor. For a brief moment, he had suspected that they had had some REALLY wild sex that night, but then disregarded it as he was pretty sure he'd remember that.

Kyle kissed his boyfriend's nose, intending to wake him up, of which nothing availed. Stan was a deep sleeper, as in I-could-sleep-through-an-earthquake deep. It wasn't a wonder he had slept right through his alarm on multiple occasions, making him late for class. He tried licking the side of his face; that didn't work either.

Kyle briefly contemplated closing Stan's mouth and covering his nostrils until he was forced to his senses, but then decided that it was way too dangerous to block off his asthmatic boyfriend's air passages. As a last resort, Kyle untangled his arm from Stan's shirt and rolled over on top of the boy, squishing their faces together.

Stan groaned then attempted to roll over. Once he realized he couldn't due to the weight on top of him, he ventured to open an eye. Upon seeing Kyle's own eyes mere centimeters away from his own, he couldn't help but smile. He had to admit the scenery had definitely improved around there since Kyle came to visit.

"Hi," Kyle breathed into his boyfriend's face. They were close enough that Kyle's nose was pressed up against Stan's cheek, and whenever he spoke they were nearly kissing.

"Hey you," Stan breathed back, fully opening his eyes while rewrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist. "Where'd all the blankets go?" Kyle made a gesture with his free arm over to the pile on top of the mattress, which was obviously impossible for Stan to see and he could not turn his head due to the fact that Kyle's face was still gouged into his own.

"Over there," Kyle replied helpfully. Stan sniggered at Kyle, kissing him briefly. Kyle kissed him back, holding on to his bottom lip for a second before pulling away. This act both turned on and scared Stan. Doing that usually inferred WANTING someone, which inferred sex. And despite the fact that losing his virginity to his best friend completely excited him in more than one way, Stan still hadn't figured out the mechanics of the whole thing yet. He knew the basic concepts, but the way you did it with guys sounded kind of … painful. And the concept still grossed him out a little. Making out with Kyle was one thing. Sticking THAT up THERE was another. He also vaguely wondered why he hadn't thought of this before, and why he was thinking about it so much now.

Stan shrugged off the notion for the time being. He'd worry about that if it ended up coming up at some point. Until then, he'd just enjoy the kissing and fooling around aspects of their relationship.

Stan and Kyle's brief kisses turned into yet another make out session until Stan lifted his head and accidentally hit it rather roughly against the floor. At this point he was awake enough to draw himself over to the mattress, pulling it fully off of the bed before continuing their epic tongue war. It ended with both boys feeling rather exhausted and falling back asleep again.

This had been the story of their night so far. They'd go to bed, wake up, make out, go back to bed, wake up, fool around and so forth. They had lost all concept of time and count of how many times they'd waken up during the night, and at this rate, day.

Nonetheless, they were both surprised when the next time they woke up it was 6 o clock in the evening. Upon closer inspection of themselves, they realized they were, in fact, starving to death. This was quite literal on Kyle's part, as after a brief blood-sugar test, he discovered that he was almost dangerously low. Stan, deciding to play the hero, gave Kyle his shirt back before picking up his love and carrying him to the nearest source of food on campus while still in their bedclothes in the freezing cold, despite many protests of 'I'm fine!' and 'I'm not crippled you retard!'

They entered the local fast food restaurant without so much as a second look from others. After surveying the area, Kyle discovered that nearly everyone was in their pajamas, and concluded that it probably wasn't that rare to see one boy carrying another one into a restaurant.

"Are you okay?" Stan asked him as he set him down. Kyle turned to face Stan, trying to glare but failing as the look of concern on Stan's face cracked him up.

"Dude, I'm fine, why the hell are you freaking out?" Kyle laughed at him.

Stan frowned, crossing his arms. "I'm just trying to help. I don't want you seizure-ing all over the place."

Kyle sighed rather loudly, still trying to withhold his giggles. Stan looked adorable when he was concerned. "Stan, how many seizures have you EVER seen me have?"

Stan thought about this. "One, I think."

"Right. And how long ago was it?"

"Uh, I dunno, back in seventh grade or something?"

Kyle nodded. "I know how to take care of myself. And I'm only mildly diabetic, so you can stop freaking out now."

Stan smiled lightly at his boyfriend. "Well maybe I like taking care of you," he stated, pulling his boyfriend in for a hug.

"I'm not like this priceless crystal glass that will break if you touch it," Kyle protested lightheartedly.

"I don't know about the crystal bit, but the priceless seems about right," Stan whispered seductively into Kyle's ear. Kyle couldn't help but blush despite the cheesy pick up line. He kissed Stan briefly before releasing himself from his grip.

"That's adorable," he said jokingly as he moved up in line.

"YOU'RE adorable," Stan retorted after him, failing at making it sound like an insult. "You are your BIG nose are adorable!"

"Hey!" Kyle exclaimed, hands immediately flying to cover it. Back in the ninth grade, when his nose really started to become prominent, he had been completely ashamed of conforming to the Jewish stereotype. He had taken a lot of crap for that, mostly from Cartman.

"I'm not insulting you!" Stan defended, taking one of Kyle's hands from his face and clasping it in his own. "Your nose really is adorable."

Kyle raised an amused eyebrow at this. "My nose is adorable?"

"Yes," Stan confirmed. "Sexy, in fact. Kyle, you have a very sexy nose. I wish my nose was as sexy as yours."

Kyle snickered. "You're really weird, you know that?"

"Can I take your order PLEASE?" The cashier asked them for the third time, bringing both boys out of their inclusive reverie.

"Do you have anything kosher?" Stan asked, completely serious, causing Kyle to crack up all over again.

"Holy shit Stan, as long as it's not pig I really don't care!" He choked out while wiping tears from his eyes.

"Maybe it's for me!" Stan retorted.

"You're not Jewish!"

"Maybe I converted!"

"Did you?"

"…no."

Kyle grinned smugly at him. "So enough of this girl treatment, all right?"

"Fine, you ungrateful asshole, you can buy your own food then!" Stan smacked Kyle lightly.

"Dude, you didn't even give me enough time to put on shoes, let alone get my wallet," Kyle rationalized with Stan, pointing down at his bare feet on the dirty floor.

"That's sick!" Stan observed.

"Well it's your fault."

"For the love of GOD can I PLEASE just take your order? There's a lineup!" The cashier exclaimed, nearing her wits end. She clearly did not find Kyle and Stan's antics nearly as amusing as the authoress did.

Stan took their orders and retrieved their food before retreating into a corner table. Some pointless dialogue and two meals later, both boys were feeling much better, and Stan became less concerned for the health of his best friend.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Kyle asked Stan once they were finished. "You know this area better than me."

Stan shrugged. "Whatever. There was this lame dance that Dylan wanted me to go to with him. There's this girl that Dylan likes that is apparently going, and he's a total pussy," Stan explained further.

"How does he know she's going?"

Stan shrugged. "I don't know, but he practically stalks her so I wouldn't be surprised if he heard her mention it."

"'Kay. Let's go then."

Stan was surprised by this. "Yeah? Since when do you go to dances? You don't dance."

Kyle grinned. "Because I CAN'T. And besides, only half the people that go to dances actually dance. We can always just stand in the corner and insult people from afar."

"And then after the dance…" Stan trailed off, grinning deviously at Kyle at his hand inched up his thigh under the table.

Kyle flushed a little. "We may have to leave early," he implied further.

Stan's grin broadened as he saw the effect he was having on his friend. "And what should we do until it starts?" Kyle leaned across the table and kissed his boyfriend, one hand playing with the neck of his shirt.

"I have an idea."

Stan, feeling incredibly turned on, practically leapt out of his seat, grabbed Kyle by the hand and dragged him out the door into the snow.

"AAAAAAAAAH DUDE!" Kyle exclaimed rather loudly. "FEET! COLD!"

Stan looked down, immediately feeling guilty for dragging his boyfriend out into the snow in his bare feet.

"Guess I'll have to pick you up again," Stan stated, knowing full well Kyle wouldn't be pleased with that.

"Nevermind, I'll just walk," Kyle grumbled, hopping from foot to foot in the cold.

"Ah, but what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let your feet get frosted off?" Stan declared, scooping Kyle right off the ground.

Kyle grumbled again. "I hate you," he muttered as he rested his head against his boyfriend's chest.

The walk back was as quick as it had taken them to get there, but it had since become darker out and colder, and Kyle's feet felt frozen by the time they got back. As Stan put Kyle back down to pull his key out of his pocket, Kyle nearly toppled over from the numbness, and Stan had had to catch him and wait several seconds until Kyle could stand on his own again.

"Hey, are we still on for tonight?" Dylan asked Stan as they passed through.

"Yeah, Kyle's coming too," was Stan's brief reply. His feelings at the restaurant hadn't died down on the walk, if anything they had tripled in intensity. He pulled eagerly on Kyle's hand. Despite the fact that they had been doing nothing but making out and sleeping for the past twenty four hours, Stan couldn't help but feel eager all over again to run his hands and mouth all over Kyle.

"You guys aren't going to be sucking face or anything the entire time we're there, are you?" Dylan started cautiously.

Stan paused to consider. "Well that depends."

Dylan bit. "On what?"

"-on whether we fill our quota right now," Kyle finished, snickering.

"What? AW, EW!" Dylan exclaimed.

"Like you're one to talk. If all goes well with that girl, either we won't see you at all, or we'll see YOU sucking her face off in the corner somewhere." Stan told him.

Dylan pondered this. "Yeah, probably," he admitted.

"SomeetyoutherethenIguess," Stan let out in one breath as he shoved Kyle inside his room, locking the door in one smooth motion before tackling his love back onto the mattress.

"Jesus Christ your feet are cold," Stan noted. He touched Kyle's arms and face. "In fact, you're cold all over."

"I may have hypothermia," Kyle exaggerated, more complaining than insinuating.

Stan sighed. "Yeah, well I know the drill. Body heat, yada yada yada," he said as he removed Kyle's shirt, then his own. Tongue and lips became intertwined within moments, and Stan found himself thinking once more about sex with his best friend. And while the thoughts were doing wonders for his lower regions, his head still seemed clouded and confused.

The two boys arrived to the dance later on, not surprisingly. After locating Dylan standing in a corner staring wistfully after some little blonde girl, they approached him.

"Dude, you haven't even TALKED to her yet?" Stan demanded. Dylan's face was a mixture of longing and anxiety as he turned to glare at Stan.

"Shut up! I haven't even been here that long yet," he snapped rudely. His face had gone a shade whiter than what was typical for the average human being.

"Just go say hi or something!" Stan prodded, trying to shove Dylan in the direction of the girl.

"It's not that easy!" Dylan complained, digging his heels into the ground.

"Sure it is. You Go. Now."

"I changed my mind." Dylan said stubbornly.

Stan rolled his eyes. "You are such a little pussy."

Dylan seemed seriously offended by this. "I am NOT!"

Stan kept on at this angle, as it seemed to work. "You ARE. You're a little bitch, and you're never going to get her if you don't talk to her. People get creeped out when you stare at them for long periods of time."

"FINE!" Dylan practically shouted, eyes gleaming an annoyance of sorts. "Just to show you up!" He stormed off, on a warpath towards the girl. Just as he got really near her, he suddenly veered away, aiming for the food tables.

Stan couldn't help it. He cracked up laughing.

"I'm guessing that he's the shy type," Kyle stated, trying hard not to laugh himself.

"No shit," Stan said, wiping a tear from his eye.

"I'm going to get a drink," Kyle suddenly decided, heading off towards the bar. Too bad he didn't have a fake ID.

Stan followed Kyle closely behind, until something made him stop dead in his tracks. Something so terrifying, so horribly dreadful that his blood curdled.

"Stan? Oh my God Stan is that you?" The sugar- sweet voice asked from behind him. Stan winced, and turned around to face her. Kyle noticed Stan's sudden stop, and retreated back to his side.

Mandy. Stan's ex girlfriend. The one Stan hadn't seen at all since they broke up. Save for that one time a month back when they had accidentally bumped into each other. Mandy had just glared at him and stormed away.

Yet now it was like she was a completely different person. She beamed at Stan, rushing forwards to give him a hug, dragging Stan's neck towards the ground. Stan, not sure of how to respond, hugged her briefly back. Kyle in the meantime, was watching the whole scenario with a rather horrified look of amusement on his face. If amusement could be horrified. He recognized the voice from the phone; it had taken him exactly two seconds to figure out who this was.

"Oh my God how ARE you?" She shrieked into his ear. Stan couldn't understand it – she was treating him like an old friend. Not like an ex boyfriend after a bad breakup.

"Uh, I'm fine… Mandy," Stan replied, unsure. "How are you?"

Mandy giggled, sounding more enthusiastic than what was needed for the situation. "I'm doing GREAT, actually. I did SO well in my classes first term, and my classes are SO easy this term!" Mandy blinked as she acknowledged Kyle. "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. You're one of Stan's friends?" She held her hand out to initiate a handshake, winking at the appalled boy.

"I'm Kyle," he introduced himself carefully.

Mandy blinked again, as if she recognized the name from a while ago, but had long since forgotten the significance of it.

Stan, on the other hand, did not like the way Mandy winked at Kyle, as harmless as it seemed. He grabbed Kyle rather roughly by the waist, drawing him protectively towards himself.

"My boyfriend," Stan filled in the blanks for her.

Mandy's eyes widened for a moment in remembrance, then narrowed sharply and suddenly. Her hand tightened in Kyle's grip, and the way she was looking at him made Kyle very nervous. It was similar to the look he had seen in Wendy Testaburger's eyes a while back, when Miss Ellen had supposedly tried to take Stan away from her. He broke the connection hastily.

"Ah. I see," she said in a deadly monotone, turning her attention completely back to Stan. Apparently ignoring Kyle would make him disappear. "Well then I'LL have to introduce you MY boyfriend," she added nastily. All Kyle could think of was the fact that Mandy was clearly not over Stan. This seemed like some sort of pathetic jealousy ploy.

Mandy looked around, searching for the person in question. "I'll be right back," she added smoothly as she went to retrieve a figure sitting at the bar, downing a drink of some sort. Either he had a fake ID or he was older than they were.

"She totally still likes you," Kyle hissed to Stan.

Stan looked worried at this. "Shit. You think?" Stan grabbed Kyle's waist tighter, somehow convinced that his boyfriend's closeness could ward off the jealous she-beast.

Mandy dragged the stumbling boy over to them. He was obviously very drunk.

"Stan," she started, once again completely ignoring Kyle, "This is my BOYFRIEND, Ryan. He's the captain of the football team AND was voted M.I.P. his first year here. Isn't that SO awesome? And in another year he'll be graduating. He's just so amazing, isn't he?" She gushed.

Ryan, seemingly barely conscious at it was, smacked Stan's shoulder probably more roughly than he intended.

"You snooze you lose eh pal?" He managed to say despite his inebriated state. "Can't complain though. Thanks to you I've got the hottest piece of ass on campus."

Had Stan been prepared for this comment, he would have argued the point. Clearly Kyle's ass was the hottest on campus, if only for a temporary period of time. But he wasn't, and both Stan's and Kyle's mouths dropped. What was it about these girls that always put themselves into situations where they'd only get hurt?

Mandy laughed nervously at her drunken boyfriend's comment. "Ryan, you said you wouldn't say that anymore…"

Ryan shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going to get another beer. Later." And with that he stumbled away and sat back down at the open bar.

"Great, isn't he…" She trailed off, small smile fading. Her cheeks flushed pink.

"Mandy…" Stan started carefully, not exactly sure how to approach this without sounding jealous. As much as Mandy drove him insane, it wasn't right for her to be with a jackass like that guy.

Mandy held up her hand. "Stop, Stan, I know what you're going to say," she began crossly. "You had your chance with me, and you gave that up. I love Ryan."

"But -," Stan tried to say.

"Unless … you still like me, of course," she breathed at Stan, taking a step closer.

Stan waved his hands in front of him in defense. "Woah, woah, Mandy you need to stop right now –"

"Why? Are you afraid to admit it then too?" Mandy demanded, becoming angry like a child who didn't get their way.

"Mandy, I've got someone. And I love him. And YOU have someone too," he pointed out.

Mandy once again was ignoring everything he was saying. "Don't lie to me, Stan Marsh-"

It was at this point that Kyle exploded. He couldn't stand to listen to any more of Mandy's pathetic attempts at taking HIS boyfriend from him.

"Uh, HELLO?" Kyle said, eyes narrowing as he clenched his fists. "I am standing RIGHT HERE, and I can hear EVERYTHING you are SAYING! LISTEN, Mandy! He's told you he's not interested like 500 FUCKING TIMES! This is why your relationship FAILED in the first place! You never listened to a DAMN THING he SAID! Get OVER it! If you're NOT happy with your relationship, then find another BOYFRIEND, but stop taking it out on US! You are not GETTING Stan, so BACK OFF!" Kyle finally exhaled, releasing the redness from his face and neck. Anger management his ass.

Mandy looked shocked beyond belief, but then a deadly glare flashed across her face. "YOU! Don't you DARE talk to me, you evil BASTARD!" She said through clenched teeth. "You EVIL, heartless fucker-"

"That's enough!" Stan exclaimed, pulling Kyle back from Mandy. He knew both of their tempers well enough that they could very well start screaming at each other in a moment. As flattered as Stan was that two people were fighting over him, he had to agree with Kyle. Mandy never HAD listened to him, and she wasn't getting Stan at any point in the future.

Mandy glared at Stan. "How dare you take his side! Don't you see how he's screwed with your head? You are not a gay man, Stan Marsh-"

"I'll be the judge of that," Stan responded rather snippily. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about my boyfriend like that."

"Yeah," Kyle piped up, because he could.

"Aaaargh I HATE YOU BOTH!" She screamed at the both of them. Her boyfriend seemed to take no notice of her from the other end of the room. She turned to Kyle, giving him a nearly demonic look. "FUCK YOU HOMEWRECKER! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" She screamed before running melodramatically from the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the girl flounce from the room, then focus shifted to the two boys that had caused it. After a few awkward moments, everyone seemed to lose interest and went back to their own business.

"Holy shit," Kyle breathed. "I had to see it to believe it."

Stan nodded. "I told you she's insane."

"I think I'm actually scared for my life. She's going to kill me."

"Nahh," Stan reassured his boyfriend, hugging him tightly. "Like I'd let her get anywhere near you again. Especially after that."

Kyle sighed, releasing the last of his anger. Stan's grasp had a tendency of making him feel better. And Stan didn't want Kyle to feel any emotions but the positive ones during the short time he was here.

"So apparently I'm a homewrecker," Kyle said, trying to sound lighthearted.

"You can't wreck a home that never existed," Stan pointed out logically. "Besides, I broke up with Mandy before. I came to you completely of my own volition."

Kyle smiled. "Me too," he said, and that was the last they thought about Mandy for a long time.

---

Kyle and Stan stood off to the side for a while, just talking and enjoying each other's company. Eventually a bunch of really energetic songs came on, and Stan convinced Kyle to get up and dance with him, along with about a hundred other over-energized people. It took him a while, but Kyle eventually got really into it, apparently forgetting that he was a horrible dancer and just going with it. Stan really didn't care that Kyle had no rhythm, he looked adorable all the same.

As the more energetic songs ended and was replaced by a slower song, groups of girls and boys began to divide in search of partners of the opposite sex.

"Come on Kyle!" Stan said energetically, pulling his less-than-excited boyfriend towards him.

"I'm not slow dancing with you or anyone, Stan," he stated as Stan took him by the waist and grabbed his hand.

Stan pouted at this, refusing to release Kyle. "Why not?"

Kyle reflected on this. "Slow dancing with a dude is just so…. Gay. And I'm not even a good dancer."

"You don't have to be good to slow dance. It's easy," Stan stated, a little put off by his boyfriend. "And you ARE gay, aren't you? So what's the big deal?"

Kyle frowned, considering this. He hadn't really slow danced with anyone before, let alone a guy in a very public place.

"Come on Kyle," Stan whined, pulling him out into the dance floor with the other couples. "Or I'll sing the whole song to you."

Kyle seemed to be weighing his options. Stan wouldn't give him time to think.

"_The dawwwwwn is breaking_," he started in his off- tune voice.

"Aargh FINE!" Kyle finally exclaimed, laughing as he allowed himself to be led out, wrapping an arm around Stan's neck. Stan started the pace, and after a few moments Kyle caught on and was doing fine.

_Even the best fall down sometimes…_

"This isn't so bad now, is it?" Stan murmured into his Kyle's ear.

_Even the wrong words seems to rhyme…_

Kyle rested his head against his boyfriend's chest. "Nothing involving you is so bad," he murmured back, a light smile traced across his features.

_Out of the doubt that fills my mind, I somehow find, you and I collide._

Stan smiled too, pulling his boyfriend closer to him. He released Kyle's hand in favour of wrapping his arm around his waist. Kyle let his own arm slide loosely around Stan's.

_I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind…_

"I love you so much Kyle," Stan said quietly, kissing his boyfriend's forehead.

"I love you Stan," Kyle replied softly, bringing his head up so he could kiss Stan's lips.

_Even the stars refuse to shine…_

"This should be our song," Stan mentioned absentmindedly. "_Collide. _Our first slow dance song."

"Also probably our last," Kyle joked.

Stan responded by kissing Kyle again. Kyle kissed back, and after a few moments he broke off their kisses by pulling at Stan's bottom lip gently again. He looked into Stan's eyes filled with love and adoration, and nervously took a breath as he decided to go for it. His heart was telling him to.

_Don't stop here…_

"I want you," Kyle whispered into Stan's ear, his voice a combination of excitement, anxiety and passion. Stan's grip tightened on Kyle for a moment, knowing exactly what he meant. Just looking at Kyle's eyes and the expression on his face told him that. Kyle looked at him nervously, for once not completely sure of how Stan would react.

Stan processed all of this in about two seconds. Once unsure, he now had a clearer view of the situation. Just feeling Kyle's body through his clothes told him that. Stan wanted Kyle, and Kyle wanted him too. Screw mechanics, they'd figure that out later. Stan brought Kyle even closer, rubbing their fronts together slightly. Kyle couldn't help but release a small gasp.

"Let's go back to my place," he said to Kyle, releasing him while walking to the side of the dance hall, hands in his pockets. Kyle closely followed behind.

Stan WAS going to say a quick 'goodbye' to Dylan, but upon noticing him in a corner with some random girl really going at it, Stan decided that perhaps it would be best if he left him alone.

They made it back to Stan's room in record time, both of them so excited and nervous that they could barely breathe, let alone speak. The second Stan shut the door he whirled around, grabbing Kyle by the shoulders and thrust him against the wall, smashing their faces together. Kyle's tongue shot into Stan's mouth, making him moan loudly as he felt Kyle up. Stan pushed his chest up roughly against Kyle's, sandwiching him to the wall. Their hips touched then were pushed together, making both boys feel as though there was no part of them that the other was not touching in some way.

Their tongues battled with each other for a while longer until Stan managed to push Kyle's tongue back into his own mouth. He instead starting going for Kyle's neck, starting at the jaw line and working him way down to the collar bone, where Kyle cried out and practically spasmed in his boyfriend's arms.

"Oh fuck Stan," He breathed, struggling with the hem of the other's boy's shirt. Stan had to stop his magic for a moment as his shirt came off over his head, and then Kyle's too. Arms around each other and mouths attached, they slowly made their way over to Stan's mattress still on the floor, collapsing onto it simultaneously while they attacked each other, sporadically running their hands all over each other's bodies. Neither boy could quite recall a time when they had been more turned on in their entire lives.

Stan grabbed Kyle's ass forcefully as Kyle fiddled with getting Stan's jeans undone. It took a while as Kyle's hands were shaking so much that he was having trouble getting the button undone. After a while, the thing finally came apart, and the rest of the pants came off within seconds. Stan didn't have as much difficulty with Kyle's although his hands were shaking just as badly. Finally rid of their troublesome pants, the boys were once again left with nothing but their boxers. Stan rolled over on top of Kyle, and the boys found themselves staring into each others' eyes. Kyle was grabbing onto Stan's shoulders, and Stan was holding onto Kyle's waist. They exchanged twin nervous laughs as they became aware of how increasingly sweaty they were becoming.

_So this is it_, Stan thought to himself.

"I want you too, Kyle," he breathed out to his partner before replacing his lips back to their rightful place over Kyle's, while simultaneously grinding himself hard into him. Kyle cried out again, and the second his mouth opened Stan viciously thrust his tongue into his mouth, muffling his cries with more moans of pleasure. Kyle arched his back, running his hands up Stan's spine leaving the boy with a tingling sensation. Stan grinded into him again, releasing even more blood to their lower body regions. The second Kyle went to moan again, Stan raked the roof of his mouth then grinded into him yet again, making Kyle's entire body quake with pleasure. Stan didn't leave him with enough time to even begin to understand what he was doing to him.

Kyle arched his pelvis, grinding himself into his boyfriend this time, making Stan shout his name in ecstasy. Neither boy could control what they were doing as they grinded with each other, their hands moving down to the hems of their boxers.

Stan hadn't been so hot in his entire life that he could recall. His hands toyed with the hem of Kyle's boxers as Kyle slowly began to slide Stan's off of him. His eyes looked to Stan's for reassurance, as though asking permission without saying anything. Stan smiled as best he could, responding to Kyle by slowly inching his own boxers off. They had never gone this far before, never been fully naked together. Stan's stomach squirmed with anticipation, and with something else that he forced from his mind.

Stan's boxers finally glided off, followed by Kyle's seconds later. And then they were gone, discarded somewhere on the floor. Stan's breath hitched as he tried to get his mind around the fact that he was naked with his best friend for the first time since they were three, when running around naked was a normal thing for children to do. Feeling Kyle fully and completely underneath him felt so natural, so meant to be.

Kyle rolled over on top of Stan as he allowed Kyle to become dominant. They were kissing again, but this time was different as both boys used their hands and other body parts to explore parts of each other than hadn't touched before.

"Oh my God …. Kyle …. I – I … I …. Luhh … la…" Stan tried to say, his thoughts and words becoming jumbled as Kyle reached between their bodies, grasping his manhood in his bare hand. The sensation of pleasure it created was quite simply off the Richter scale. Stan somehow managed to get himself to work enough to make his hand do the same to Kyle, enducing a very similar reaction in the other boy.

"אני רוצה אותך!" Kyle moaned into Stan. And although Stan couldn't find out what the hell Kyle was saying, the fact that his boyfriend had just screamed out in another language (he was guessing Hebrew) turned him on even more, if possible.

Kyle broke away from Stan's face to start kissing down his neck. He gradually made his way down his chest to just above his navel, thoroughly encouraged by Stan the entire way.

When Kyle broke away from Stan's stomach after a moment, kissing down even further, Stan knew exactly where he was headed. It excited him more than he ever thought imaginable. He felt incredibly turned on. He felt lusty. He felt anxious.

In short, he felt sick.

…

_Oh shit._

_Oh God, please God not now_, he silently begged the heavens as Kyle continued what he was doing, completely unaware of the increasingly nauseous feeling in the pit of Stan's stomach.

_Please don't let me hurl, for the love of Christ!_ Stan thought, looking up towards his ceiling. _I swear I won't ask for anything ever again!_

But the feeling, instead of dying down, seemed to double in strength within seconds. Kyle kissing down his abdomen was torture, but he couldn't concentrate on it anymore, as all of his will was bent on not being sick. And Stan was losing the battle. As he felt his stomach start to convulse, he did the last thing he could think of doing.

Stan Marsh held his breath.

Looking back on this, Stan would have been the first to admit it probably wasn't a very smart thing for him to do. It would have probably even been better if he had just puked and got it over with.

Instead, Stan held his breath. Which was a very, very bad idea when you were participating in an activity that required heavy breathing and high nerves. Add asthma to the equation, and a situation occurs.

After a few moments of silence from Stan, Kyle became vaguely confused and stopped what he was doing just inches from where Stan wanted it most, to look up into his partner's eyes.

"You all right?" He asked him, wondering why he had ceased all noises and general movements.

Stan, apart from feeling horribly nauseous, felt fine otherwise, until he opened his mouth to speak. Instead of the 'yes' he was aiming for, a rattling breath escaped his mouth as he felt his chest constrict.

_Oh fuck_, were his first thoughts as he realized what was happening.

Kyle's eyes widened, becoming increasingly concerned. "Stan?" He said, drawing himself off of the boy.

"uhh – I …. Fi – ine," Stan gasped out, feeling more embarrassed than anything else. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Stan let out another rattled breath as he struggled to breathe properly. His chest constricted even tighter.

Kyle, now fully concerned, leapt to his side. "Jesus Christ are you having an attack or something?" He demanded, panic in his voice. "Where the hell's your inhaler?"

"Fuhhhhhh-…. Ine!" Stan insisted, despite the fact that we was clearly not.

"WHERE THE HELL'S YOUR GODDAMN INHALER STAN?" Kyle shrieked at him.

Stan managed to motion towards his desk. He couldn't speak anymore; all of his attention was focused on just breathing. Worst of all, his stomach was still competing with his asthma for attention. If he puked now, it would off his air supply even more.

Kyle darted to Stan's desk, frantically scrambling and throwing things onto the floor in his panic to find Stan's much needed item. Moments later, he found it and rushed back to Stan's side. Kyle helped Stan hold it as Stan forced himself to inhale, which was becoming increasingly painful. Three puffs later, Kyle swung himself to behind Stan, leaning against the bed frame while propping Stan up against himself.

"Come on Stan, you're alright," he urged. "Breathe with me." Kyle soothingly ran his fingertips up Stan's chest repeatedly as Stan felt the medication start to kick in. He did as he was told, and a few minutes later he was breathing nearly regularly again.

"Ky-" Stan started to say, but at that moment his stomach decided to give the whole episode a grand finale. Stan puked, throwing up all down his chest and over Kyle's hands. He was pretty sure this was the most humiliated he had ever been in his entire life and wished he could just sink into a hole.

Kyle was used to Stan puking everywhere, including on him, but he couldn't help but exclaim 'gross!' as he felt the warm ooze run over his hands.

"Fuck… Kyle, I am SO sorry…" Stan managed to say after a moment. He could feel his entire face and neck burning hot in the dark. He was embarrassed, and disgusted to be covered in his own puke. "Fuck…I…Kyle, don't hate me."

"Shhh, calm down," Kyle urged Stan, blocking out the smell and feel. "It's not your fault."

Stan felt it very much so WAS his fault. Why the hell did he have to have such a weak stomach?

"I really did… want to, you know," he finished lamely.

"I know," Kyle soothed. "It's NOT your fault. We can always try again some other time, 'kay? I'm just glad you're all right, you scared the shit out of me."

Stan had a feeling they wouldn't be trying anything again anytime soon, but nonetheless managed a smile. "Mmhmmm."

"Now in the meantime," Kyle continued, smiling deviously "we both need showers. Care to join me?"

It would be a sin for Stan to refuse.

---

Hate it? Love it?


	3. A Different Perspective

Hello again, and hooray for updates! I've been a bad girl. I really hope you guys don't hate me all that much.

I'm afraid this chapter may bore you all a bit, but I promise in the next chapter the plot will start moving along!

Also, Cjmarie – Skeletons in the closet – go read. Now.

And thank you to Cszemis for encouraging me to include a Will and Grace definition in here.

Chapter Three – A Different Perspective

Dylan leaned back in his chair, contemplating everything that had happened the past few days. It was customary for him to do this; as a philosophy student, analyzing situations was what he did best. After a long, deliberate thought process, he had still come to the same conclusion that he had when he had started, and that was that Stan and Kyle were probably the straightest gay couple he had ever met.

It was true, of course. If they were separated, they were just like every other guy Dylan had ever known. He had known Stan for nearly six months now, and for the majority of that he had thought Stan to be the typical male. And he really was – Stan was lazy, spent the majority of his time on the Internet (although now that Dylan looked back on it he was probably talking to Kyle), was fairly in shape, slept in really late, procrastinated like no tomorrow, drank at parties, dared other guys to do stupid things and was interested in girls. Dylan had caught him scoping them out on more than one occasion. And he had had at least one girlfriend, if Mandy could be considered a girl. Dylan felt he'd rather stick a red hot fire prodder down his throat than deal with that freak of a female.

Dylan vaguely wondered if it was Mandy's fault that Stan was with Kyle in the first place. Maybe that girl really did have the power to turn her poor victims off of girls for the rest of their lives. He doubted it though; apparently those two had known each other their whole lives, so something had probably just developed naturally out of that. Dylan wasn't about to try to find out what powers Mandy had though. He liked girls. Or, more specifically one girl, Angelina. The girl he had been 'stalking' as Stan had said, for the past month. Dylan would have preferred the term 'cautiously observing.'

Dylan really HAD intended to talk to her at the dance the past night. He had wanted to, however the fates seemed to have been conspiring against his nerves. While he had been sitting at a table, watching people running around trying to find their respective partners for the first slow dance song, and watching Angelina run out to who he later found out was her boyfriend, another girl had approached him. She had nervously introduced herself, admitting that she had had a crush on him for a while. Dylan had been stunned, and also impressed as this girl seemed to have more nerve than he did. Within moments they had been in a corner of the dance hall, and Dylan had forgotten all about Angelina.

Dylan smirked to himself at how things had a tendency of working themselves out. He didn't believe in God, but he did, to an extent, believe in fate and that some things were just meant to be. Things that were just completely out of everyone's control. He believed to a certain degree that was what had happened with Stan and Kyle. Dylan had never caught any hint of Stan being interested in any guy other than Kyle, and although he didn't know Kyle all that well, he had a feeling it was the same way with him.

Kyle wasn't typically gay, yet he was distinctly different from Stan. Kyle was more intelligent, sure, that's how he had ended up at Harvard after all, but it was more than that. He seemed to act very deliberately most of the time, like all of his actions were planned out meticulously beforehand. He was a bit of a smartass like Stan, but also had a bit of a temper. Dylan had seen him flare up at Mandy at the dance, as did most people. They were both practically shouting at each other, looking ready to claw each other's throats out. He'd been a little worried about Kyle if he had to be around him when he was REALLY pissed off.

Kyle reminded Dylan of something he had heard on _Will and Grace_ a while back. His older sister was a huge fan, and when he was younger she used to force him to watch it with her. Looking back on it, Dylan speculated that maybe this was part of the reason he had never really had any problems with gays. This specific episode was one of his sisters' favourites, and since she had forced him to watch it with her nearly 200 times, or so Dylan claimed, he could practically recite the entire thing by heart.

Dylan's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he searched his memory, trying to recall the exact term. HGN, or something? Yeah, the Hot Gay Nerd. The character Jack had said it. Supposedly the rarest of all gay subspecies. The HGN was notoriously skittish. They must be approached slowly and from the rear. The Hot Gay Nerd is unaware of his natural beauty. He hides what appears to be a narrow waist and broad shoulders under ill-fitting khaki. The HGN startles very easily. Admire him from a distance, approach him delicately and pick up on any subtle clues. They are truly a spectacular specimen.

Dylan couldn't help but laugh, remembering how his sister used to walk around with him outside, searching for Hot Gay Nerds. Maybe that was why he had remembered it so clearly. Now that he thought of it, the entire definition didn't fit with Kyle, but the title did at least. He couldn't really see Kyle being skittish unless a gay guy came up to him and starting hitting on him relentlessly. Which, now that Dylan thought of it, would be absolutely hysterical.

Kyle was most certainly a nerd; you didn't need a psychic to tell you that. Dylan wasn't sure whether it was the glasses, the fact that he was attending Harvard University or his seemingly calculated responses and actions, but Kyle just about had a freaking aura of intelligence or 'nerdism', as Dylan had coined, about him. Dylan wasn't going to lie – he was a total philosophy nerd himself, but Kyle seemed the type who could talk for hours about the logistics of a computer program while everyone else just smiled and nodded, everything going completely over their heads. And he'd get excited while talking about it too. And he'd still be a totally cool guy.

As for 'hot' and 'gay', while Kyle may or may not be the latter, he was certainly the former. Dylan wasn't afraid to mention that he noticed when guys were good looking. Just like how women talked about how pretty female celebrities were. There was a difference between noticing and being actually attracted, which Dylan wasn't. Dylan wasn't gay; he wasn't even bisexual. He was just extremely comfortable with his own sexuality.

Dylan felt the seal on this definition was placed sometime during the philosophical debate he and Kyle had had. Kyle had promised they would have one, as a sort of repayment for what Dylan had done for him, and Kyle had been true to his word. It had also helped Dylan get some ideas for his paper, which was an added bonus. There really was nothing more intense than describing positive leadership traits in Hitler with a Jew. Dylan hadn't really ever known anyone, apart from professors and a select few classmates, who could keep up with his thought processes. He used to stay after class just to talk with them for the sake of being able to converse with someone who could understand what the hell he was talking about. Kyle not only was able to keep up with Dylan, but also threw a few of his own ideas back in his face. It was a refreshing experience.

Almost the entire time Stan sat on the edge of Dylan's bed and watched the both of them banter back and forth, looking both completely bewildered and extremely amused. At first he had tried putting his own misplaced comments in, but after a while he gave up, instead opting to hold Kyle by the waist while Kyle animatedly gestured with his hands where he personally thought Hitler could go, or already was. After about half an hour, their debate had turned into an anti-Hitler rant, and Stan finally dragged Kyle off into the confines of his room, presumably to calm him down. Dylan had happily written his essay in record time, feeling very pleased with the final result.

Dylan flipped through one of his textbooks, not really paying attention to the words on the pages. One of the things that intrigued him most about the Stan and Kyle phenomenon was how they almost always appeared to be in their own little world, blocking out everything else. Dylan had noticed several giggling girls pointing at Stan and Kyle as Stan semi-forced Kyle into dancing with him, while a few other people shared disgusted looks with each other. Stan and Kyle hadn't noticed either of these reactions. Dylan hoped that one day he would find someone he was so in love with that the same would happen for him.

The only other experience he had shared that weekend with both boys was during the hockey match the previous day which was, funnily enough, against Harvard University. Dylan really had no idea why any team would travel so far to play against one another, but then again he never really paid much attention to sports. It was customary at university games to paint yourself, or at least your face, the school colours. Somehow, Stan and Kyle had gotten in touch with some people, and after both of them had disappeared for a while, they had come back in such a manner that Dylan couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Both boys were shirtless, only their pants remaining. Stan's entire face, torso and arms were painted the blue of Devry, with the name of the university emblazoned in gold across his chest. Kyle, however, had taken a half and half approach. Half of Kyle was painted the blue of Devry, supporting his boyfriend's team. The other half of him was painted the red of Harvard University. A few people had turned around and noticed him, confused expressions on their faces. Dylan had no idea who'd agree to paint Kyle the colours of both teams. Usually a person either supported one team or the other, never both.

Kyle never even made a comment about his appearance. He strolled up to Dylan, acting as though he didn't have the colours of two different teams painted on his body, opening his mouth to speak.

"Jesus, it's cold even in the indoor rink," he had said ever so casually, and Dylan nearly doubled over laughing, tears streaming down his face. Stan had snickered, and then Kyle started laughing too.

"You know you're just begging to get your ass kicked," Dylan had informed the other boy when he could speak again. Kyle had merely shrugged, brushing the comment off.

The actual game had been nearly as hysterical. Whenever Devry scored a goal, Kyle had cheered along with the rest of Devry while the Harvard supporters booed. And whenever Harvard scored a goal, Kyle had cheered with the Harvards while the Devrys booed. He seemed equally happy when either team scored. It didn't really matter who won to him – either way, he went home happy.

So it really wasn't a surprise that when Devry beat Harvard, Kyle jumped up and cheered just as loudly as everyone else on Devrys side. A few Harvards had glared at him before walking away in clumps, defeated. Stan had, rather surprisingly, swung Kyle back and kissed him at the end of the game, accidentally smearing some of Kyle's red paint onto his own chest. Someone behind them had muttered 'fags', to which Stan, without a second glance at the person, had casually flipped him off. Kyle looked a little more perturbed at the comment, but after a few whispers into Kyle's ear, the boy snickered and the entire incident was forgotten.

That was, until someone grabbed Stan by the shoulder and whirled him around.

"Wanna try that again, fag?" The other male had sneered, looking as though he expected Stan to start crying. Instead, Stan burst out laughing, and it took a moment for Dylan to realize why. The accuser was looking Stan straight in the eye. The only difference was that said accuser was standing a full bleacher spot up from them. The guy couldn't have been more than five feet tall. He was a skinny little rat too. He barely looked 18 at all, and this little shit was trying to pick a fight with Stan, who could probably snap him in half like the twig he was.

"What do you have to be laughing at, you faggy rainbow child?" The smaller boy declared, sounding highly irritated that he was being laughed at.

Stan's eyes narrowed, looking the other straight in the eye. "Dude, fuck off," he said, remarkably calmly for how irritated he looked. Worry flashed upon the shorter boy's face as he realized Stan wasn't going to be the stereotypical gay and cry while declaring the other a 'mean boy'.

"Yeah? Or what?" the other boy lamely retorted, eyes already darting around, almost as if he was looking for a quick escape.

"I'll fucking kick your midget ass," he declared, trying to not laugh at the nervousness of the other. He lunged forward a little, and the kid jumped back, nearly tumbling over. Stan had cracked up laughing at this, and shortly after Kyle had joined in, followed by Dylan.

The other boy glared, pride obviously hurting. "Fuck you, asshole," he stated angrily before storming off. Stan lunged slightly again, making himself look as though he was going to go after him, so that the boy ended up running out rather than storming out.

"Dude, nice one," Kyle had commented, grinning.

Stan had grinned back. "Little shit," he said before kissing Kyle again. And this time no one had said anything.

Dylan chuckled to himself at the memory. Stan and Kyle weren't going to take shit from anyone, which made them, in his opinion, one totally kickass couple. Anyone who dared oppose them either got ignored or disregarded. And they were so obviously in love it was almost disgusting. Well, maybe to a straight dude. Girls, however, had a tendency to ooh and aah over this shit, and Dylan didn't think he'd be surprised if a few years down the road Stan and Kyle constantly had a stream of stalker fan girls following them everywhere. Which would totally suck for them, but serve them right for being so goddamn 'kew-ute'.

Dylan was so lost in his thoughts that he barely noticed the door to Stan's room open and didn't turn around at his computer desk until he had heard it slam shut, finally breaking him from his thoughts.

"You leaving already Kyle?" Dylan asked, casually spinning himself around in his seat. He stopped and looked up at Kyle, small luggage bag in one hand while Stan locked the door to his room.

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, I gotta get back before I fail all my exams," he exaggerated, a hint of regret in his voice.

Dylan stood up to shake Kyle's hand. "Well man, it was great meeting you. Good luck with all that shit."

"Thanks dude," Kyle responded, smiling. Stan took Kyle by his free hand.

"I'll be back in a bit," Stan explained as he led Kyle out into the hallway of their residence.

"Later dude," Dylan called out as he sat back on his chair, the door slamming shut. It was really cool that Kyle somehow found the time between studying to come out and visit Stan, if only for a few days. Dylan had heard some pretty nasty stories about students at Harvard going nuts and breaking down, and even about one suicide attempt. Maybe Stan would shut up about Kyle for a while. Dylan snorted and shook his head; he doubted it. If anything he'd hear twice as much from here on out. Ah well, at least he had a face to match to the legend now.

Kyle and Stan really were a strong couple, Dylan was convinced. It didn't really seem like there was anything they couldn't overcome. No obstacle they couldn't defeat. No shore they couldn't conquer, and so the cliché went on.

Dylan further considered this. Or was there? More than one person in past relationships had claimed to have found their soul mates, only to be left alone and devastated in the end. Things such as death, a crippling accident, affairs, or just plain old falling out of love.

Maybe Stan and Kyle would last. Or maybe they wouldn't, there was really no way of telling. But until then, Dylan would ponder these things, examining every possibility until the day he died. After all, isn't that what it meant to be a philosopher?

o0o0o0o0o0o0

"That's it," Kyle commented as he closed the trunk to Blitzkrieg.

"Yeah," Stan said, nodding his head and making no attempt to move from his position beside Kyle.

Both boys stood there, staring at the trunk of Kyle's car until Kyle finally broke the silence.

"I-I should get going dude," he said emotionlessly.

"Yeah," Stan responded, nodding his head again. Both boys still made no motion to move.

"Stan?" Kyle looked at his boyfriend.

"Yeah?"

Kyle snickered as he cupped Stan's face between his cold hands. "Stop saying that," he stated as he leant in to kiss him. He broke away after a few moments.

Stan's breath came out in white puffs in the cold February air. "Or else what?" He said, sounding more solemn than amused.

"Or else this," Kyle smiled as he wrapped his arms around Stan and kissed him again, finally evoking a smile from the other boy. Stan kissed him back, placing his hands on Kyle's face. Stan leaned against the car slightly while Kyle stepped forwards, drawing himself closer to Stan's body.

They stood there, kissing and holding each other for some time until Kyle finally broke the kiss. He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Stan's, much as he had on Christmas day. Neither boy moved or spoke for a moment.

Kyle finally backed away and released Stan. "I really need to go," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Stan couldn't help but feel a little bitter. "I know dude. Have a safe drive."

"Yeah." Kyle fidgeted for a moment before taking his hands out of his pockets again and gave Stan a final hug, his face brushing against the other boy's hair.

Stan buried his face into Kyle's shoulder. "Thanks for coming up to visit me Ky," he said, sounding slightly muffled.

Kyle brought one hand around the back of Stan's neck. "Thanks for giving me someone to visit," he replied, smiling a little.

Stan drew back, making a face. "Ugh, I wish you didn't have to go."

Kyle made an equally strange face. "You think I WANT to dude?"

Stan sighed. "I know, it's just that it seems you weren't here very long."

Kyle took Stan be either shoulder. "Stan, we've dealed with four months of being apart at a time. We've just survived over another month. We can handle two more weeks."

Stan smiled at this. "Yeah, we totally can. Even though it sucks."

Kyle smiled back. "It does suck."

"It uber sucks," Stan stated, outdoing his boyfriend's comment.

Kyle grinned devilishly. "It sucks like your mom-"

Stan waved his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay, no your mom jokes! They're too old and lame."

"Like your mom."

Stan shrugged off Kyle's comment. "Whatever. You just don't want to admit that I won."

Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Won what?"

"The sucking game."

"We were playing a game?"

"We were."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Well that's because you're daft." Stan poked Kyle's chest.

"I'M daft?" Kyle declared, trying to look offended.

"You are," Stan informed him. "It's okay dude, I don't mind that you're not that bright."

"Hey! Fuck you," Kyle said, laughing. He pushed Stan hard against the back of Blitzkrieg.

"Ah, dude my back!" Stan said, dramatizing the minor pain he felt as he was pressed against Kyle's car.

"Stop being a pussy," Kyle told him. "Suck it up; take it like a man."

"Fine!" Stan said, thrusting his face forwards, connecting his mouth with Kyle's. Kyle picked Stan up slightly and rested him on top of the lower back of his car, while Stan roughly pushed his tongue inside his boyfriend's mouth and wrapped his legs around Kyle's lower torso.

A few minutes more and they forced themselves apart again.

"Dude, these three days have NOT been enough," Stan commented, feeling the slight heat already generated between their bodies.

Kyle grimaced. "I don't think a year of this would have been enough."

"Two years?" Stan suggested.

"Ten years?" Kyle furthered.

Stan raised a hand and pressed it against his own chest. "Why Kyle Broflovski, may I assume that you intend on making ME your bride?" He asked, trying to imitate a southern accent for reasons beyond him.

Kyle snickered. "No way, you'd look too ugly in a dress."

Stan laughed at this. "You're right – besides, I'm totally the one who wears the pants in the relationship."

"Ugh," Kyle said, pushing himself away from Stan. "You wish you were."

"I KNOW I am," Stan retorted, sliding off of Blitzkrieg.

Kyle looked at his watch. "Shit, I really gotta go dude."

"You already said that," Stan stated, crossing his arms.

"I know, but I REALLY have to go now."

"Fine then, go," Stan pouted.

Kyle sighed and rolled his eyes. "You are such a drama queen."

"Hey, I ain't no queen!"

"Aargh!" Kyle cried out in frustration. "I've got to go dude, I'll see you in two weeks."

Stan grinned at Kyle. "I know, I'm just messing with you." He stepped towards Kyle and kissed him one final time before the other boy finally managed to get in his car. Kyle turned it on then rolled down his window.

"Bye Stan."

"Bye Kyle," Stan replied as he reached in through the window and ruffled his hair. "Have fun driving back."

Kyle snorted. "Right. And I'll also have fun failing my exams."

"You're not going to fail. So get your ass back and study," Stan grinned, retracting his hand.

"Bye!" Kyle said once more before rolling up the window. He strapped on his seat belt and backed out of his parking space.

Stan didn't even think about it. He darted around the car, knocking loudly on the driver's side window frantically.

Kyle stopped between switching gears to laugh and roll down the window once again.

"Now what?" He asked, trying to sound irritated even though he clearly wasn't.

"I almost forgot dude!" Stan exclaimed, bending down so his face was level to Kyle's. He bent into the window quickly and kissed him quickly.

"I love you," he said, grinning.

Kyle grinned equally widely. He kissed Stan just as quickly back. "I love you too."

"Two weeks."

"Right."

There was a second longer hesitation as the boys kissed one final time before Kyle rolled up his window, waved to Stan and drove out of the parking lot and away from DeVry University.

Stan watched as Kyle's car rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, still grinning like an idiot. In two weeks they'd be seeing each other, and then all would be right with the world again.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Sheila Broflovski laughed loudly as she spoke on the phone to one of her friends from the synagogue.

"Oh Louise, you are such a riot!" She exclaimed. "So it's all settled?" She paused for a moment, listening to the other end of the line. "Oh, that's just perfect. Thank goodness our children have such good parents like us," she stated, sounding rather proud. "I just haven't known what to do with my buhbie lately, he's been so antisocial to everyone. He barely speaks to us at home while he's away, and I'm beginning to wonder if he even talks at all to his good friend, Stanley, much anymore."

Ike entered the kitchen, having heard his mother's side of the conversation. "What's going on ma?" He asked, curious.

"Shhh buhbula, ma's on the phone right now," she scolded lightly.

"What are you planning ma? You sound like you're planning something."

"Ike, I'm just having a nice little talk with a friend. You go shoo now."

Ike reluctantly obeyed, inching slowly out of the kitchen, hands behind his back. His mother turned her attention back to the phone.

"So it'll be the Friday my Kyle gets back, correct? Oh, this is going to be so wonderful!"

Ike raised an eyebrow in confusion, a habit he coined from his older brother. What exactly was his ma planning?

"I trust my Kyle will be pleasantly surprised," Mrs. Broflovski said into the phone. "You take care now. Bye."

As Mrs. Broflovski left the kitchen, humming a little tune, Ike couldn't help but feel a little worried.

0o0o0o0o

Sorry it's a bit shorter, but I got everything established that I wanted to and then some. Hope you liked it! Leave me a review please:D


	4. Dinner Parties

And here, loyal readers, here things start going downhill. And fast.

I know, another o.c. is introduced in this chapter, but not to worry. They won't be in much other than this chapter.

And whoever's still mad at me for taking forever at the last update, I'm sorry okay? Remember, to forgive is divine. So be divine and leave me a review! XD

Chapter 4 – Dinner Parties

Kyle smiled as he got off the airplane and entered Denver's airport. He closed his eyes and inhaled, enjoying the scent of the Colorado air. Sure, when Kyle had left for Harvard he had been thrilled to finally get out of the damned state, but that didn't mean it wasn't nice to return home every once in a while.

Now he'd be home for a week, and he was free from the stressfulness that was Harvard University. Kyle couldn't help but wish there was a spring break during the fall term as well. After all his midterms, having finished all but one now, Kyle was glad for the mental break. And the chance to sleep again.

The second Kyle had finished his common law practices midterm he had grabbed up his already packed things from his room to take the taxi he had called in advance to get him to the airport where his plane left an hour later. And the airplane actually took off at the right time for once too.

All that rush, and he was finally home, enjoying the fresh South Park mountain air that you could for some reason smell even in Denver. Or maybe he was just envisioning it.

It was early evening, and Kyle's mother would be there shortly to pick him up. And then he'd be back in his small little mountain hick town. They'd be back by mid evening hopefully, around the time Stan's own plane would be in flight. Kyle hoped that with any luck he'd be able to get away from his family in the late evening long enough to give his boyfriend a proper 'welcome back' greeting.

Kyle kept his eyes closed and took another deep breath. If people were staring, he didn't care. It was good to be hom-

"KYLE!!!!" Kyle was knocked backwards with such force that he nearly toppled over, dropping all of his luggage in the process.

The teenaged boy opened his own eyes and was met with a small pair of brown ones barely reaching his chest.

Kyle smiled at his little brother, returning the embrace. "Hey Ike! Good to see you again."

"What were you doing with your eyes closed Kyle?" Ike asked with an enquiring gaze.

"Smelling," Kyle replied vaguely.

Ike wrinkled his nose in response. "What, did someone fart or something?"

"IKE!" At this point Mrs. Broflovski had finally managed to reach the two boys, panting a little. "Buhbula, don't run ahead like that! This is a busy airport, who knows what could have happened!"

"Aw, ma!" Ike complained, releasing Kyle to frown at his mother. "Kyle wasn't THAT far away, we could both see him! What could have happened in that space?"

"Don't talk back Ike. You don't know airports as well as I do." It was only after Sheila had finished scolding her youngest son did she greet her eldest, standing up on her toes to deliver a bone crushing hug. "It's good to see you buhbie."

Kyle winced, feeling quite sure that she had broken at least one rib. "S'good to see you too ma."

"Speak in proper sentences Kyle," Sheila stated before picking up the smaller of Kyle's dropped suitcases and handing it over to Ike. "Help your brother with his luggage now, there's a good boy." And with that she turned on her heel and marched away, followed closely by her two sons.

The second Mrs. Broflovski was a few feet ahead of her boys, Ike tugged on Kyle's arm to get his attention.

"What?" Kyle hissed to his brother, seeing a sense of urgency in his eyes.

"Ma's planning something," Ike hissed back at him, eyes glancing nervously from his mother's back to Kyle again.

Kyle's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Planning something? What do you mean?"

"I don't know, I-"

"Ike, buhbula. Come walk where I can see you."

Ike sighed, making a silly face at Kyle before rushing up to his mother. Kyle joined her momentarily on her other side.

"It will be nice to have a family dinner again, just like we used to," Sheila smiled, eyes still looking forwards. "Oh, and we'll be having some company too this evening Kyle."

The tone in which his mother stated this fact made Kyle nervous. He didn't know what exactly it was, but he was always able to detect a certain tone in her voice when she was planning something that set off warning alarms in his head.

"Who?" Kyle asked casually, trying to cover the hint of worry in his hot sexy Jew voice.

"Oh, just a friend from the synagogue buhbie. You remember Louise don't you? Louise Silverstein?" Mrs. Broflovski searched her son's face while he struggled to recall the name.

After a few moments, Sheila sighed. "She has a lovely daughter, you met her at the synagogue a few times." Upon seeing her son's even more confused face, she sighed even louder. "Lia? Lia Silverstein?"

BAM. Kyle's eyes widened as he vaguely recalled a Lia that his mother had introduced him to at their synagogue at least a few years back. Incredibly short, incredibly skinny girl with ridiculously long black frizzy curly hair and black rimmed glasses. She was ridiculously shy, Kyle remembered, and possibly the most awkward girl he had ever met in his entire life. In fact, quite possibly the only reason he remembered her was because of the awkward tension she generated just through breathing.

"_Kyle, this is my good friend Louise, and her lovely daughter Lia," Mrs. Broflovski said, introducing the pair. _

"_Hello," Kyle had said casually, holding his hand out to her._

"_Uh…hi, Imeanhello," she had mumbled, staring at her feet while holding her hand out as well instead of taking Kyle's own. Kyle had had to take a grasp on the girl's hand before initiating the shake himself. After a brief moment Lia had yanked her rigid arm away, looking around nervously as if trying to find the nearest escape route._

"_So… nice weather," Kyle had said, trying to be polite under his mother's reproachful gaze. _

"_Uh…what?" _

"_Nice weather," Kyle had repeated, trying not to snicker at the dazed girl._

"_I like clouds," she had stated, and then she had hopped a little nervously on the spot. "Do you like clouds?"_

"… _clouds are nice…" _

Kyle shook his head. If Mrs. Silverstein was coming over, then why'd she have to bring her daughter too? The last thing Kyle wanted was to spend his first evening home listening to a bunch of 'uhhs' and 'ahhs' and 'I like clouds.' Maybe Mr. Silverstein was out, and her mother didn't want to leave her home alone, Kyle speculated.

Sheila smiled warmly at her son, seeing the recognition on his face. "Oh, so you do remember. Wonderful!"

"Er… yeah. Why's she coming over?" Kyle asked, trying not to sound rude.

Sheila beamed. "I just thought it would be nice for you to catch up with one of your little friends buhbie."

Kyle vaguely wondered where his mother had gotten the notion that he and Lia were friends, or had even talked other than that one incident.

"Lia's really grown up Kyle. You'll see, you probably won't even recognize her at all! She's got such pretty hair, -"

Kyle tried not to let his jaw drop as the sudden realization came over him. His mother's words became deafened by a throbbing in his ears, and all he could manage was a weak smile and nod as his mother rambled on and on about Lia's pretty features.

"It will be really good for you to talk to a girl again," Mrs. Broflovski continued, completely unaware of her son's behavior.

Kyle felt sick, and yet he kept on nodding and smiling at his mother. Over her shoulder, he saw Ike mouth an 'I told you so.'

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

The minute Kyle arrived home, he excused himself from his mother and brother to 'go to the bathroom'. He darted up the stairs, already whipping his cell phone out of his pocket, and locked himself in the washroom. The entire ride back Mrs. Broflovski had talked incessantly about Lia to the point where Kyle was beginning to panic a little. It was obvious that his mother was trying to set him up with the girl; the moment Kyle had brought up that notion casually, his mother had denied it (of course) but then tacked on a 'but you'll like her, you really will' at the end.

Kyle's head spun a little and he struggled to grasp the situation. His first night back, and his mother was already pushing a random girl he met one time years ago on him. What if she so innocently 'set them up' every day this week? How would Kyle explain his rejection of Lia without telling her he was with Stan?

Kyle pressed '1' on his speed dial, tapping his foot nervously against the door as he sat on the sink, his face flushed red.

"Come on, come onnnn," he muttered to himself, running his free hand through his curls.

_Hello,_

"Hey! Stan!" Kyle said almost relieved, letting out a breath after not even realizing he was holding it.

_This is Stan Marsh. I'm not here, so leave a message. _

"Fuck," Kyle hissed to himself, dismayed. He tried calling him again, and it was halfway through his third attempt when he checked his watch to reveal that it was 7:30 and Stan would be on his plane right now, hence his phone not being turned on. "Fuck," he hissed again to himself.

Stan was, in fact, on his plane ride home. At this exact moment, he actually had his face in a paper bag, cursing himself for forgetting to take stomach settler before taking off while the fat old man next to him looked on at the sick boy in disgust.

When Stan would get home, one of the first things he'd do after greeting the rest of his family would be turning his phone back on. And shortly after that, he'd receive a message:

"Hey Stan! Stan, call me as SOON as you get this. Please. My mom… she – dude just call me soon, okay? I don't know what to do." The edge of panic in his boyfriend's voice would worry him, so of course he'd call back the minute he got it. But for now, Stan was only preoccupied with his own stomach as it emptied itself once more into the smelly bag.

Kyle clicked his phone off, resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. He began to nervously pace the small bathroom, trying to get a grasp of the situation.

"Calm down Broflovski," he muttered to himself, turning on his heel and walking back the way he came. He looked at himself in the mirror. The one thing he noticed other than the bags under his eyes caused by Harvard was his flushed face and neck. He covered his face with his hands, taking a deep breath while enjoying the coolness on his face.

'Calm down dude,' he thought to himself. 'I bet this isn't really all that bad. It'll just be this one shitty thing you have to deal with tonight, and after that it'll end, you'll never see Lia again and you and Stan can laugh about this whole stupid thing.'

Kyle's little pep talk was interrupted by his little brother knocking on the bathroom door. "Ma wants you to come down – they're here," Ike stated as Kyle vaguely heard the front door open downstairs.

Kyle took his hands off of his face. "Ah- alright, I'll be down there in a second," he called out to his brother. After hearing Ike scamper off, he took one final breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

'What would Stan do?' Kyle thought to himself as the redness in his face faded slowly. An answer in his mind seemed to materialize right before him.

'Stan would play it cool.' Kyle had to agree with this logic. Play it cool for the night, and then let it all blow over by morning.

Kyle opened the bathroom door, making the last of his mental preparations before heading down the stairs, fake smile at the ready. He turned the corner, headed towards the doorway, andholyFUCKLiawashot!

Kyle resisted doing the cliché double-take and instead opted for trying not to let anyone see his shocked face. But of course his mother picked up on it, smirking ever so slightly. She clearly thought her plan was going spectacularly.

"Kyle, this is Lia, my good friend Louise Silverstein's daughter," she introduced the two as Kyle stepped towards the girl and held out his hand. And this time there was no hesitation, nothing as she took his hand and shook it, and firmly at that.

"Hi Kyle," she spoke clearly and looked directly at him instead of at the floor, smiling in a friendly manner.

"Hi," Kyle said cautiously, eyeing the new Lia curiously. What had happened to the old lion mane hair, the emo glasses, the awkward attitude? The girl who couldn't figure out that when someone puts a hand out, you're supposed to shake it? The girl who stared at her shoes and mumbled and talked about clouds?

No, not this. This couldn't possibly be the same person. Lia's hair was shorter now, hanging around her shoulders. She had straightened it somehow, and had swapped her dark rimmed glasses for a nicer pair with no frames around the lens, not unlike Kyle's own which only had half a frame. She seemed a few inches taller, and, as Kyle noticed, had filled out. And nicely at that. Her eyes were green he noticed, much like his own.

It took Kyle a few moments to realize that he was staring.

"Uh, can I take your coat or something?" Kyle said awkwardly. What the hell was wrong with him? The last thing he wanted was to give his mother the wrong idea. But, as he glanced over at his mother and her satisfied gaze, he realized the damage had already been done. Shit.

"Sure, thank you," Lia replied sweetly, removing her coat and handing it to the embarrassed boy who also took Mrs. Silverstein's coat as well before retreating into their small coat room.

Kyle hung up both coats before leaning against the wall for a brief moment, pinching his upper nose not unlike Stan's own mannerisms.

"Shit," he hissed to himself. Kyle had been hoping that at least Lia would be the same as she was before. Then at least he'd have an excuse to fall back on when his mother wanted to know why he would be rejecting her. But no, it was like the new Lia had picked up the old Lia and punted her off the Empire State building, leaving her remains to be run over by passing cars.

No, Kyle thought bitterly, as luck would have it, turns out Lia had a personality swap, which fucked HIM over even more. What would his excuse be now? Kyle decided his only hope would be to search the girl, looking for some sort of fault in her. GodDAMNIT why couldn't his mother just stay the hell out of his personal life?

Lia couldn't have changed all that much in a few years, Kyle thought desperately. Somewhere, deep inside her the old Lia resided, just waiting to burst free. Or at least the girl had to have one significant fault that would be powerful enough to sway his mother.

Kyle groaned then removed his fingers from the bridge of his nose. Why the hell was he hiding out in the coat room, trying to think of a plan of action? Why wasn't he in the arms of his boyfriend?

"Fuck this," Kyle muttered to himself, exiting the coat room. He WOULD find a fault in Lia, God help him. Everyone had a fault, didn't they? They had to; faults made people human, didn't they?

Kyle hoped so.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

An hour and a half of polite talk later, and Kyle had been forced to draw a single conclusion:

Lia was not human.

How could she be anyways? Anyone who could stand a full hour and a half of so-called 'polite talk' with his mother was impressive to begin with. Granted, the main part of the conversation was Mrs. Broflovski talking to Mrs. Silverstein, but still. It seemed every five seconds Kyle's mother seemed to interject some positive comment about her son, mostly the fact that he was attending Harvard University 'just like his father' and 'we're so proud of him' and 'he's maintaining such a high average.' Where had this attitude been when his mother had bitched him out Christmas break for not having grades high enough to her expectations?

The worst part of all this was that every time his mother interjected some comment about her son, she'd glance over to Lia, as if to see her reaction towards these comments about her son. She clearly wanted to see if Lia was interested in Kyle. Which, to Kyle's dismay, it seemed she was. Because every time Mrs. Broflovski looked at Lia, Lia looked back at her, smiled with that stupid sweet smile of hers, then smiled at Kyle. It seemed most of the important dialogue in the conversation was articulated through gestures.

Kyle decided right then that he disliked Lia. He almost felt bad for his judgment; if his mother didn't keep pushing them together, he almost might have liked her enough to talk on a friendly basis. But no, Kyle thought, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly at the girl that sat across the room from him, she had to be so damn perfect. Kyle had been straining to see any hint of something wrong with the girl, and he was failing miserably. He couldn't find a single damn thing to criticize about her. Her posture was perfect, her hands rested neatly in her lap, she responded well to every question she was asked. The only thing really wrong with her was that she seemed _too_ perfect. Like she wasn't even real.

Lia caught Kyle's glare then, and interpreted it entirely the wrong way. She smiled ever so slightly, blushing while looking down for a moment, her head tilted slightly to the side.

'_Aw, awww! Don't do that! Fuck!' _Kyle screamed in his mind. He quickly retracted his glance, looking over at the two mothers, who were exchanging a 'look.' The sort of look that said 'Oh, aren't our children just darling. They belong together.' And this was not good. This was very, very bad.

Just as Kyle's and Lia's mothers finished exchanging looks, Mrs. Silverstein got up from her seat beside her daughter.

"Oh, just look at the time!" She exclaimed overdramatically. "Lia honey, I just remembered I need to pick up your brother and drive him over to his Jew scouts weekend retreat in North Park! We better get going then."

As if on cue, Mrs. Broflovski stood up as well. "Oh, leaving so soon? Well Lia at least should stay over for dinner! We have plenty room for one more, and I'm sure she'd have more fun here than being home alone!"

Kyle resisted the urge to smack his forehead. Why the hell did they even bother playing it out like this? It was so obviously planned, did they think they were stupid? Kyle stifled a groan. He looked over at Lia, who just seemed plain confused.

"Are you sure?" She asked Mrs. Broflovski, a slight air of concern in her voice. "I don't want to be any trouble." Kyle couldn't help but wonder if the girl was just being polite, or was really, really daft.

"Oh, you won't be any trouble, not to worry!" Kyle heard his mother exclaim. Damnit, now he'd be spending the whole evening with the abnormally perfect Lia. His mother had a way of making ten thousand course meals so that the meal would last for a few hours, at least. She liked to call it 'a traditional Jewish meal.' Kyle liked to call it 'interrogation time,' because most of the time she did it was when she felt the need to ask her sons ten billion random questions about their lives, as though they had done something wrong and was trying to search out what exactly it was. With any luck she'd go nuts on Lia and make her uncomfortable to the point that she'd never want to return to the Broflovski residence.

"And Kyle can always drive you home afterwards if your mother's not back by then," Mrs. Broflovski continued.

"Ma, Blitzkrieg's in Massachusetts," Kyle felt compelled to informed his mother. Mrs. Broflovski turned her head only to glare at her son for a brief moment.

"Blitzkrieg?" Lia asked, frowning at Kyle.

Mrs. Broflovski waved off Lia's question with her hand. "Oh, it's just a silly thing," she stated, acting as though the fact that Kyle had named his car was something psychopaths did. "My son thought it would be funny to name the car we gave him when he went away to Harvard."

Lia giggled slightly. "You named your car, Kyle?" She asked, seemingly amused by this. Kyle nodded at her slightly, if only to be polite, while Lia proceeded to blush again.

'_Stop blushing!'_ Kyle thought at her. It was also really getting on his nerves the way she pronounced his name. She said it so it sounded more like Kyelle than Kyle, which was far too feminine for his liking. Maybe it was her very mild Israeli accent doing that, but whatever it was, it was starting to get irritating. He wanted to say in a less than polite fashion 'Look, it's not Ky-elle. I'm not a frigging girl. It's KYLE. Ky-lll. None of this Ky-elle bullshit.' But then again his mother would have kicked his ass for being something less than polite to the girl she was trying to set him up with.

"Anyways," Mrs. Broflovski continued, smiling at Lia's obviously interested behavior, "You can always use your father's car to drive her back – you're still insured on it. You don't mind Lia staying, do you Louise?"

"Oh, not at all! It'll be good to get her out of my hands for a little while," Mrs. Silverstein replied coolly, before continuing her remark. "Not that she's any trouble of course, Sheila. Right Lia?"

Before Lia had a chance to respond, her mother opened her mouth again. "Well I really must be going. I hope David's finished packing all of his necessities. It was nice seeing you again Sheila." Mrs. Silverstein gave Kyle's mother a brief hug before gathering up her purse. She gave her daughter a final look that made Lia back away ever so slightly. Kyle knew it well – he had seen it on his mother's face more than a few times. It was the classic, rather intimating stare that said 'be good, or else.' Kyle resisted a groan again. The only thing worse than one overbearing Jewish mother was two overbearing Jewish mothers.

As Mrs. Broflovski hustled off after her friend to get her coat and see her to the door, Kyle became aware that he was alone in the living room with the Lia bot.

Lia stood up from her place on the couch, as did Kyle.

Lia tilted her head at Kyle again, pursing her lips. "I'm not being any trouble am I?"

Kyle sighed, shaking his head. "No, you're not," he replied, at the same time thinking _'At least not to my mother you're not.'_

Lia's face rippled with mild concern. She really did want Kyle to like her – her mother had talked nonstop to her about this boy so that he was practically a legend. She had been trying hard to be perfect that night, trying to erase the embarrassing memories from what she had been a few years ago, but it was clear to her that something else was on Kyle's mind. "Are you okay?"

Kyle sighed again, trying to force a friendly smile on his face. "No, nothing," he had tried to say convincingly, but instead it came out half heartedly and tired sounding.

Lia bit her lip and opened her mouth to speak again, but was cut off by Mrs. Broflovski re-entering the room.

"Dinner should be ready shortly," she announced happily, continuing on to the kitchen. "I'm preparing a traditional Jewish meal Lia, so I hope you enjoy. You two just sit there and talk nicely for a little while."

Kyle couldn't help but grin. A traditional Jewish meal, excellent. With any luck…

"What?" Lia inquired, seeing the devilish look on Kyle's face.

"Nothing," he stated quickly, this time smiling genuinely. "Ma makes the best meals." And through the smile, a small voice in the back of Kyle's mind spoke clearly at Lia.

_'You are so screwed.'_

It was through this hope that Kyle's mother would ruin her own plans that Kyle was able to smile and laugh and carry on as a respectable young man would while his mother put the final preparations on her meal.

The first two dishes went fairly smoothly, consisting mainly of small talk. Kyle began to get a little worried that his mother was going back on her usual 'interrogation time.'

Until they started in on the _cholent_, that is. After a few moments Kyle's mother put her utensils down, folded her hands neatly and asked Lia in a disgustingly sweet tone "So you come directly from Israel, correct?"

Lia, a little thrown off by the random question, stuttered a little. "Uhh...yes?"

"So when did you come to the United States?"

"When I was ten."

"So you speak Hebrew and Yiddish fluently I trust?"

"Well actually we spoke mostly English in my family, but I do know some."

"You lived in Israel, how could you not speak it fluently?"

"Uh-"

"Eat up dear, before your meal goes cold."

"Sorry."

Kyle tried not to chuckle at the scene before him. Leave it to his mother to undo anyone, no matter how damn perfect they seemed. Mrs. Broflovski was a very face paced woman in this sense. The best part was that this was how his mother usually talked to people. She also seemed completely unaware that she made others uncomfortable by asking so many fast paced questions while expecting them to eat at the same time. Lia was already struggling.

This had always been his mother's tactic. By feeding someone and asking them a lot of questions all at once, he was always hastened to respond quicker, leaving less time to come up with little lies. It was how his mother operated, and one of her tactics that made her nearly impossible to lie to. He noticed Lia flash a look of slight desperation and worry at him, and Kyle was almost compelled to help her out. But if he wanted her to come undone, even slightly, then he couldn't interfere with this at all. So instead Kyle continued to eat and pretended that he hadn't seen the look. Ike was watching the whole debacle, greatly amused while Lia's face began to turn a deep shade of red, trying to keep up with the woman.

This went on for a little while until Mr. Broflovski put a hand on his wife's arm. "Dear, I think you're overwhelming our guest a little."

Kyle stole another glance at Lia, who seemed to look like she wanted to disappear into a hole in the floor. Her face was a little red, her pose slightly slumped, looking at the bowl in front of her rather than at Kyle's mother.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry Lia, are you all right?" Mrs. Broflovski seemed to finally take note of the expression on the unfortunate girl's face. Kyle frowned. Leave it to his father to ruin everything. How come he never bailed him or Ike out when she was doing the same thing to them? Ike had a similar, slightly unhappy look on his face. Kyle suspected he was enjoying Lia's torture a little too much.

Lia seemed to snap out of her less than happy trance at this. She straightened up, looked Mrs. Broflovski straight in the eye and stated "Oh, I'm fine but thank you for your concern."

And so it was that Mr. Broflovski ruined his son's chance at undoing miss perfect and the rest of the meal went on normally thereafter.

When it had finally ended (a whopping two and a half hours later), Mrs. Broflovski felt the need to talk politely for a while longer before declaring it was late and that Kyle should drive Lia home.

Kyle, feeling quite glad that the night was finally at an end, was eager to get Lia dropped off so he could FINALLY call his boyfriend, who had actually returned home a full hour beforehand and had left Kyle half a dozen messages on his cell phone in response to the single panicked one Kyle had left him. Stan had even called the Broflovski residence but the call had gone straight through to their answering machine.

Kyle arrived at Lia's house a few minutes later.

"That was fun," Lia stated, smiling shyly up at Kyle, who tried his best not to recoil. Fun? Where was she the whole evening?

And now she seemed intent on locking eyes with Kyle. She took off her seatbelt, never breaking the eye contact. She shimmied a little closer in the passenger seat towards Kyle, still looking at him straight in the eyes. She moved a little closer.

It was at this point Kyle became aware that she expected him to kiss her, and his eyes widened slightly with the realization.

"Uh, goodnight," he told her quickly.

Lia frowned slightly. "What? That's it?" The girl then leant in quickly and brushed her lips ever so slightly against Kyle's.

It was at this point that Kyle backed away very suddenly. This was not going to happen. Kyle turned back towards the steering wheel, pinching the bridge of his nose again.

Lia frowned, taken aback by Kyle's reluctant behavior. She had thought that he liked her too, at least somewhat. "What's wrong?"

Kyle groaned, running his fingers down his nose. "Look Lia, there's something I've got to tell you."

Lia leaned in again, curious. "What?"

Kyle really didn't see any other option but to tell her. "I've… kinda got someone."

Lia didn't try to hide the disappointment on her face. "Well then why was I invited to come over tonight?" She asked, an edge of hurt in her voice.

"My mother doesn't know."

"Well, why the hell not?" She snapped, feeling rather frustrated and embarrassed.

"Lia, please-"

"Why not?"

"This doesn't really concern you."

"Of course it concerns me! It concerns me because I just spent half the evening with you because our parents decided it would be a good idea to set us up!" Lia snapped, becoming increasingly annoyed. "Damn straight it concerns me-"

"It's because I'm with a guy, okay?" Kyle snapped back, tired of the unnecessary hostility.

Lia's recoiled a little, feeling rather shocked. "You're GAY?" She asked disbelievingly.

Kyle turned his head to the side and gave Lia an apologetic look. "Please don't say anything. I promise my mom'll leave you alone from now on."

Lia closed her mouth, relaxing a little. "So you're gay."

"Please don't tell. I'm sorry about all of this."

Lia sighed, imagining how her own mother would react if she were to tell her that she had decided to become a lesbian. She cringed openly at the thought. And from what she had gathered of Mrs. Broflovski, she couldn't imagine her reacting much differently.

Lia sighed again. "You realize you're going to have to tell her eventually."

"I know. Just not yet."

Lia suddenly felt very drained. She nodded her head at Kyle, reaching a mutual understanding with him before leaving the car.

"Goodnight Lia."

"Goodnight Kyle."

When Lia opened the front door to her house, Kyle began to pull away. He had already decided that outright telling the girl was NOT the best thing he could have done, but at the moment it had seemed to be the only choice. She wouldn't say anything, not for the moment at least, but now Kyle would have to somehow ensure that Mrs. Broflovski wouldn't contact Mrs. Silverstein again for a little get together. He didn't think Lia would take that well, understandably.

Reentering his house, Kyle attempted to sneak past the kitchen and up the stairs into the safety of his bedroom when his mother called him out.

"Kyle buhbie, is that you? I want to speak with you."

"Fuck," Kyle cursed under his breath. Nothing was going right tonight. And Stan had to be wondering where Kyle'd gotten to.

"Hey ma," Kyle said in a less than cheerful tone as he entered the kitchen, his mother doing the dishes.

"Well?" Mrs. Broflovski glanced over her shoulder at her son expectantly.

"She's…nice," Kyle stated carefully, not wanting to be too descriptive.

"What? That's it? She's a lovely girl Kyle."

"I guess."

"And tonight went so well! You liked her, didn't you?"

"She's nice," Kyle repeated.

"Don't you 'she's nice' me Kyle Broflovski! What's wrong with her?"

Kyle, feeling rather cornered, tried to think of something to say to steer his mother away from this topic.

"It's just that-"

"Just what?"

"Well mom, finding a girl is something I kinda need to do by myself!" He responded quickly.

Mrs. Broflovski let out a rather ungraceful snort. "Well Kyle, you weren't exactly doing anything to find yourself a girl, so I decided to help out a little. It's what mothers do."

Kyle stared at his mother a little disbelievingly. She honestly thought she was helping by picking out a girl for him!

"I think maybe I'll call up Louise again tomorrow, you two hit it off so well you really should get together a few more times before you need to return to Harvard," Mrs. Broflovski added thoughtfully.

Kyle massaged his temples. "Mom, no."

Mrs. Broflovski turned around and put her hands on her hips, staring down her son. "No WHAT? You obviously need some help in this department Kyle, and you are getting back together with that LOVELY girl, and you are going to enjoy yourself too!"

Kyle was beginning to feel a little nauseous again. He felt like he had no defense at all against his mother's persistence. "Mom, I'm just not interested in her."

"What?" Mrs. Broflovski glared at her son incredulously. "What do you mean you're not interested?"

"It's not like I can help it!" Kyle persisted. "I don't know, I just don't like her!"

"You are not going to try to get off that easily with me. What's wrong with her that you don't like her? You're being ridiculous!"

"I'm not feeling well, can I just go to bed?" Kyle said, trying to do anything to get away from his mother. He backed away ever so slightly.

"Oh no, you are not getting away that easily mister! Why are you acting like this?"

The nauseous feeling in Kyle's stomach intensified, and he held one hand against it slightly. "Mom, please-"

"Please WHAT? You are making me very frustrated! I don't know what the problem is!" Mrs. Broflovski declared, her hands flying up in the air.

"The problem is I JUST DON'T like her like that!" Kyle snapped a little.

"Do NOT take that tone with me young man!"

"Whatever. I'm going up to my room," Kyle stated, attempting to dismiss his angry mother. He was exhausted physically and mentally and wanted to see his best friend badly. He could not handle this right now.

"You are doing no such thing until you explain to me what in God's name is wrong with Lia Silverstein!"

'_What would Stan do?'_ Kyle thought desperately once again.

"Kyle, do you hear me? Look at me!"

_'What would Stan do?'_

"I am TALKING to you mister!"

_'What would-'_

"I have had ENOUGH of this! Now you talk to me right now and explain yourself!'

_'What-'_

"Kyle Broflovski if you do not answer me this moment so help me God!"

Kyle's mother was giving him a headache. He desperately thought of something to say. _'What would Stan do? What would Stan do? What would Stan-'_

Mrs. Broflovski reached up and seized her son angrily by the shoulders. "Do NOT ignore me! You stop this right now and you TELL me-"

"MOMI'MGAY!' Kyle shouted out all at once, immediately regretting his words. Mrs. Broflovski immediately let go of her son's shoulders. She stood still for a moment before turning her back to him.

Kyle raised a hand to his mouth. His head was spinning, and he felt sick beyond all belief. The only thing he was thinking right then was _'Yeah, that's definitely what Stan would do, you dumbass.'_

A few moments ticked by, and still a few more. The kitchen was silent as Mrs. Broflovski remained silent, her back still turned towards her son.

A few more moments, and Kyle couldn't stand it anymore. "Mom?" He asked quietly.

Still silence.

"Mo-"

"Get out."

oOoOoOoOo

Leave a review! Please!


	5. No Sense

Chapter 5 – No Sense

Kyle stared dumbly at the back of his mother's head. A thousand thoughts came rushing into his head, but they weren't acknowledged as his gaze remained blank. His heart was beating rapidly although he did not know it, and the only real emotion he could feel at that moment was sheer disbelief.

After another few moments of silence, Kyle had somehow convinced himself that he must have misheard her. After all, she was his mother – she loved him, Kyle told himself. No way would she ever mean something like _that_.

"Mom?" Kyle ventured to whisper again, not moving an inch.

"Get out." Mrs. Broflovski's voice rang clearer this time with a clipped edge to it.

Kyle flinched as though he had been slapped by her. This couldn't be happening.

"You want me to leave the kitchen?" He asked with an edge of desperation in his voice.

Mrs. Broflovski finally turned to face her son, although she would not gaze into his eyes. Rather, she looked determinedly somewhere over his right shoulder as her face contorted into a snarl. Her eyes were brimming with tears, although it looked as though they were more from anger than anything else.

Mrs. Broflovski raised her arm slowly and deliberately, pointing towards the direction of the front door. "Get out of my house."

Kyle started to panic, noting the look of pure disgust on her face. He looked around as if by some chance some sort of object or person would jump out to save him. But of course nothing happened. Kyle bit his lip, determined to get his mother to meet his eyes.

"Ma, you don't mean that –"

"For the love of Moses you leave this house RIGHT now!" Sheila snapped at her son, her face turning deeper shades of red by the second. She raised a hand and pressed it against her forehead before setting it back at her side.

"Ma, I'm your son!" Kyle tried to plead with her. He stood still, determined not to move. She'd take it all back, surely she would.

Mrs. Broflovski took several steps forward, looking almost predatory. "You are not my son," she hissed through gritted teeth, finally meeting her son's gaze. Her eyes looked deadly despite the fact the tears in her eyes were threatening to spill out and down her face.

Kyle took a step back, both from the shock of his mother's cruel words and her intimidating stance. He raised his hands up in defense, resolutely refusing to leave.

"Ma-"

"Leave."

"Ma, listen to me-"

Mrs. Broflovski grabbed Kyle roughly by the wrist. "I'm not interested in listening to the likes of YOU." The disgust in her voice was becoming more and more evident. She started leading him out of the kitchen.

Kyle desperately shook himself free of his mother's grip. "The likes of me? Mom, please, don't do-"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Mrs. Broflovski finally screamed, raising an arm as if to slap her son, but stopping herself short and lowering it back into it's previous clenched form at her side.

Kyle's mind reeled at this hostile movement. His mother clearly wasn't going to listen to logic or really anything he had to say right then. He felt his lower lip quiver, and he bit back showing any tears or forms of distress to the enraged woman standing in front of him.

Kyle was left with one defense. He bit on the inside of his mother, forcing himself to keep a straight face. "Mom, I love you."

And yet not even this yielded a single reaction on Mrs. Broflovski's part. Her lip curled as she narrowed her eyes and gave Kyle the most terrifying look he had ever received from her in his entire life.

She spoke clearly and deliberately. "You are no longer a member of this household. You are trespassing on my premises, and if you do not leave immediately I will be forced to call the police."

Kyle's eyes widened before letting out a small cry of distress. He felt his eyes overflow, and he buried his face in his hands, shaking. He felt his mother come up behind him and start shoving him to the front door.

"M-ma, p-please," he heard himself saying as he wiped his face hastily with his sleeve. He felt the pushing stop and his lowered his hands to see his mother opening the front door. He looked at her in pure desperation.

"I-I d-don't, m-ma," he muttered at her, words jumbling together. The open door let a cold gust of air fill the hallway.

She pointed out onto the streets. "Get out."

Kyle shook his head vigorously, not even bothering to hide his tears anymore. Let her see how upset he was. "No."

The woman who was formerly Kyle's mother glared at him. "Get out!"

"N-no…"

Mrs. Broflovski gave her son one final push, sending him stumbling out the door and almost falling over. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"Mom!" Was the last word Kyle managed to get out before the front door of his house slammed inches away from his face. The force caused some snow from the roof to fall down around and on top of Kyle. He was standing outside in a sweater, jeans and socks. He could already feel the cold seeping through to his feet.

And Kyle stood there, hoping by some miracle the door would be reopened and he would be welcomed back into his home and family. After about ten minutes, Kyle let out a frustrated scream and started banging on the door, yelling obscenities through his tears and begging his mother to let him back in. No one came, and the longer this went on the more frustrated Kyle became until practically punching the door and probably injuring himself more than anything else.

"MOM! LET ME THE FUCK BACK IN NOW! RIGHT NOW!" were his final hoarse cries as he finally collapsed into a sobbing heap alone on the porch.

oOoOoOoOo

Stanley Marsh was becoming impatient. His entire family was asleep, having welcomed him back hours ago. It was now the early hours of the morning, and he found himself pacing his room distractedly, checking the status on his cell phone as well as scanning his home's phone line constantly for messages he might have missed. Stan had not received a single hint of Kyle's existence past the panicked message he had received many hours ago, and truth be told he was becoming a little worried.

And hence he was pacing his room, wondering where the hell Kyle had gotten to. His message had left Stan with no hint as to that whatsoever, and having already called his cell as well as home line, the only conclusion that he could draw logically was that the Broflovskis had gone out somewhere and Kyle had left his cell phone at home. But even so they should have been back by now, so logically the next conclusion that Stan had drawn was that Kyle and his family had been brainwashed to join the crab people in their legion of darkness and takeover of the human race. Hey, knowing South Park, it could happen.

Stan chewed on a finger as he continued to think of other possible situations. Shortly thereafter, he threw his hands up into the air.

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself. "I don't care if the Broflovskis are mad at me for waking them up, Kyle should have fucking called me. Rude asshole." He didn't mean it, but clearly Kyle just not being courteous was the lesser of some of the situations he had calibrated within his head. So Stan threw on a jacket and some shoes, left his house and stopped dead in his tracks two footsteps out the door.

There, at the foot of his driveway nearing the edge of a street, sat a lump that Stan immediately associated with his best friend and boyfriend. His arms appeared to be wrapped around his legs, head tilted towards the sky.

"Kyle?" Stan called out, expecting Kyle to turn around and acknowledge him at least. Instead, Kyle acted as though he hadn't heard Stan's voice and continued looking up at whatever it was fascinating him.

Mildly irritated, Stan advanced down the driveway. "Kyle, the fuck?" He stopped, standing right beside the boy and looking down at him as Kyle still refused to acknowledge him whatsoever. Frowning, Stan waved his hand in front of Kyle's face. Sometimes Kyle became so thoroughly engrossed in things that he blocked out all outside distractions. When Kyle didn't even so much as blink, Stan began to become a little concerned. He vaguely wondered how long he had been sitting out there. Kyle's eyes still rested on the sky, darting around between various objects. Stan looked up, trying to find what was so interesting to Kyle and was greeted with the same old random array of stars.

Stan finally knelt down beside Kyle, confused by his odd behavior. "Is everything all right?" He touched his back gently, surprised by the sensation of cold and wet on his fingertips. Had Kyle been lying back in the snow, there would have been a print behind him, and as Stan noticed, there was not. He vaguely wondered why he was only wearing a sweater in this frigid weather, without any gloves or even a scarf? And why was he sitting in the snow in his jeans? And where the hell were his shoes?

Kyle's strange behavior and appearance gave Stan an odd feeling in his stomach. He brushed Kyle's cheek gently, immediately withdrawing his hand when he felt how cold it was. "Jesus Christ, how long have you been sitting out here?"

Kyle, without batting an eye or even glancing over at Stan, brought his hand up, raising a finger to silence him. "Sssh," he whispered before patting the ground beside him, as though expecting Stan to take a seat on the cold wet ground as well.

"Kyle, what the he-" Stan was interrupted by another 'shh' and a second pat on the ground before Kyle withdrew his hand back into himself. Stan, feeling completely bewildered and more than a little concerned, did as Kyle indicated and sat on the ground, trying not to cringe as he felt the snow quickly seep through into his pants.

And still Kyle's eyes remained on the sky, never once looking at Stan. Stan noticed them darting around, looking at different things, his forehead wrinkled in slight concentration. Stan took note of what appeared to be dried tear stains on his boyfriend's face, concerning him even further. Kyle was never one to cry on a whim.

He obeyed Kyle's wishes, sitting silently beside him and eventually looking at the sky, wondering what on Earth Kyle saw up there.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kyle spoke quietly. He raised a finger towards the sky, pointing at a certain spot.

"See that star there?" Stan tried to follow his gaze, not noticing the one of the billion stars Kyle was pointing to.

"Yeah," he replied anyways.

"That's the most distinguishable star from the constellation Gemini. It's generally seen in the winter, in that exact location."

Stan's forehead wrinkled in confusion. Kyle was looking at constellations? "Kyle, maybe you should come insi-"

"But," Kyle stated, interrupting him. He pointed at another star that seemingly only he could see. "See that one there? And this one? They are two of the stars that form the Big Dipper. It's one of the easiest constellations to spot."

Stan gave Kyle a look of complete bafflement before deciding to completely play along and looked in the direction Kyle was indicating. Sure enough, Stan spotted it relatively easy. After all, he had remembered what it had looked like in scout camp. In the summer.

"Dude, isn't that one supposed to be seen only in the summer or something?" Stan mused to himself.

Kyle smiled inwardly ever so slightly. "Yeah, it's a summer and fall constellation. We shouldn't be seeing that one in the winter, especially not in that location." Before Stan even had a chance to respond Kyle continued his dialogue. "And see that group of stars there?" He pointed. "They form Lyra, another summer constellation. And see those stars? That's Draco, a summer constellation, which is supposed to loop over the Big Dipper, but instead it's looping over those ones there-" Kyle pointed at yet another cluster of stars. "That's Canis Major, a winter constellation. And none of them are in the right spots, except for Gemini."

Stan, not knowing what to say, could only come up with one word. He had a vague suspicion that Kyle wasn't really interested in the constellations; it was something else. "So?"

Kyle finally turned to face Stan, his blue- green eyes piercing into Stan's light blue ones. "So?" He repeated incredulously. "It doesn't make any sense."

Stan gently rested a hand on Kyle's back, ignoring the sticky wet feeling. Kyle flinched, but otherwise did nothing to stop Stan's gesture.

Stan looked directly at Kyle, happy that he was finally conversing properly with him. "Kyle, it's South Park. Nothing makes sense here."

"Hmm," Kyle stated, reverting his gaze back to the sky before speaking again. "So do you think that if we left, say even just into the nearest town, North Park or something. Would the moment we cross the border between the towns, would we see the constellations all of a sudden snap back into their right places?"

Stan shrugged, eyeing Kyle cautiously. "I don't know, maybe."

"Do you think we could go find that out?"

Stan thought before speaking, using his hand to stroke the curls on one side of Kyle's head, which came off slightly damp too. He kissed Kyle's cheek lightly, noting how cold he felt under his lips. "Maybe another time. You should come inside, it's freezing out here."

Kyle frowned at the stars. "But I want to-"

Stan shushed his friend, using his fingers to turn Kyle's head towards his own, kissing his lips briefly. He felt Kyle's mouth tremble under his own. "How long have you been sitting out here?" Kyle merely shrugged. This small action nearly sent Stan into panic mode. Kyle set his life by his watch – he always had the time or knew how long he had been somewhere, or how much time left he had to do something. Something had happened, Stan knew, and he wanted desperately to find out what and if Kyle was okay. He certainly didn't appear to be.

"Come inside," Stan said again. Kyle hesitated before nodding slightly. Stan stood up first, helping Kyle to his feet. He wrapped an arm around Kyle's neck before ushering him up the driveway.

About halfway up it Kyle suddenly shrugged out of Stan's grip, gesticulating wildly at the sky. He looked between Stan and the sky, as though he was trying to share some secret that Stan was not understanding.

"I just don't GET IT!" Kyle emphasized, taking on the air nearly of a man gone mad. "They don't go like that! It doesn't make any sense!"

Stan gave Kyle a defeated look. What the fuck was up with his constellation obsession? "Kyle, it doesn't MATTER. Let it go."

"It doesn't matter?" Kyle repeated as if he didn't understand those words. "What if the constellations are like that everywhere, and not just in South Park?"

"Kyle, come on-"

"That means that the entire solar system is out of whack. The entire UNIVERSE. All the stars being switched between locations could have a devastating impact on the universe and even mean the end of the Earth. Stan, we have to find out and reverse it!"

"Kyle! What the hell are you trying to fix?" Stan demanded, gazing sternly at his friend.

This seemed to have an impact on the other boy. "What do you mean?" Kyle asked, confused.

Stan ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look – I, I dunno. The stars are fine. Come on, you'll make yourself sick staying out here."

"But the stars-"

"The stars will be FINE," Stan emphasized. He retook Kyle's hand, drawing him back towards himself. Kyle rested his head on Stan's shoulder as Stan wrapped his arms around him.

Kyle waved his hand half-heartedly upwards as he made one final attempt. "The stars-"

"Kyle, shut up about the stars." Kyle dropped his hand, letting it hang loosely at his side. He drew his head back and looked the other concerned boy in his eyes. He took one final glance at the sky, and burst into tears, sinking onto his knees on the ground, sliding out of Stan's grip and covering his face with his hands.

Stan, taken completely off guard, was down on the ground half a second after Kyle was. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him, trying to provide any comfort to the devastated boy at all. Stan went completely into panic mode and almost made himself sick, but somehow managed to keep it down for once. Kyle was, quite frankly, scaring the shit out of him. He couldn't remember when, if ever, he had seen Kyle behave and react this way.

"Shh, Ky it's okay," Stan tried to say soothingly into Kyle's ear as he held him, but Kyle shook his head vigorously, face still in his hands.

Stan could barely make out a single word Kyle was saying, muffled by sobs and his hands. "No! S-Stan it's-s not okay! I-it makes no s-s-sense!" Kyle finally took his hands from his face and Stan was able to see the absolute traumatized and desolate expression on his best friend's face as the tears continued to pour down his cheeks. Just seeing Kyle like this made Stan's own eyes tear up, but he forced them back.

"It makes no sense!" He repeated, a hysterical edge to his voice. He collapsed sideways onto Stan, knocking his friend on his butt, and buried his face into Stan's winter coat. "It m-makes no sense!" He repeated again. "I just don't g-get it! Sh-she's supposed to love me no matter what, r-right? Right? Th-this isn't supposed to matter! IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!" Kyle screamed the last part into Stan.

Stan, quite aware of Kyle's hysteria and also the sickly soggy feeling of his entire body, forced Kyle to stand up again beside him. Kyle immediately flung his arms around his boyfriend's neck, sobbing onto his shoulder.

"Okay Kyle, we're going inside, right now," Stan stated, clipped. Keeping a firm grip on the boy beside him, Stan managed to get him and Kyle in the front door despite the awkward angle Kyle was holding him at. Stan fumbled with the lock before helping Kyle up the stairs. Stan noticed the wet marks Kyle's socks made on the carpeting on the floor as they ascended.

They made it into Stan's bedroom without further incident, and Stan shut the door quietly behind him. He set Kyle on his bed, but upon trying to pry his arms off of him, Kyle freaked, clutching ever tighter than we was before.

"Don't leave me!" He cried desperately into Stan. Further alarmed by the excessive clinginess along with everything else, Stan tried to reassure poor Kyle.

Stan grabbed Kyle's face and kissed him hard. Around this time he realized that this was the first time he'd seen Kyle in two weeks. 'Welcome home; your boyfriend is broken,' Stan thought bitterly. "Ky, I'm not going anywhere," he tried to reassure him. "Your clothes are soaking wet," he added, playing the concerned boyfriend. "Let go of me and I'll get you some dry ones."

Kyle reluctantly obeyed, although he kept a sharp eye on Stan through his tears as though he expected him to run away at any second. In record time Stan dug out a set of clothes for Kyle, tossing them towards him. Upon checking himself, Stan realized that his clothes were pretty wet also and quickly changed into a fresh pair. Turning around, he noticed Kyle fully changed and was in the process of folding his soaking previous clothes. He wasn't hysterical, but the tears were still pouring down his face and a cloud of misery seemed to hang in the air about them.

Sighing, Stan took the clothes away from Kyle. "Ugh, don't worry about folding them dude," He stated, making a face as water dripped from the clothes and onto his bedroom floor. He tossed them in his laundry basket; at this point, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to know how long Kyle had been sitting in them.

Stan rejoined Kyle, sitting beside him on his bed and wrapping him arms around him again. Kyle leaned against Stan, enjoying the comfort his boyfriend provided as he let out smaller sniffles.

Stan took one of Kyle's hands in his own and let it go almost immediately. His hands were like ice; colder than ice, Stan thought. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty; if Kyle had been sitting out there for as long as Stan assumed, he should have noticed him sooner. He could have gotten him inside sooner; and found out what the hell was wrong sooner. Maybe it was just Stan's paranoia, but he couldn't help but think that Kyle's lips looked a little blue. Stan retook his hand, trying to ignore the cold sting against his own.

"Ky, what happened?" Stan asked him softly, nuzzling his head slightly.

A knock was heard at Stan's bedroom door. "Stanley?" He heard the voice of his mother through the door.

"Yeah?" Stan responded wearily. Mrs. Marsh took the opportunity to open the door and step inside. Her hair was disheveled and she was wearing a night robe. She took one half-awake glance at her son and his best friend, whose head was now buried into Stan's shoulder, shaking ever so slightly. She noticed her son's own worried expression; she frowned.

"Is everything all right?" She inquired.

Stan hesitated before nodding his head. "We're fine," he stated monotonously. "Sorry for waking you mom."

Sharon tilted her head slightly, giving her song an inquiring gaze while Stan returned it with a look that said 'let me handle this – something's happened'. Sharon sighed, shaking her head and wondering what had gotten into the boys.

"Let me know if you need anything," she said, casting one final glance towards the distraught Kyle before leaving the room, shutting the door gently behind her.

"Your m-mom's so nice!" Kyle declared into Stan's shoulder shortly thereafter before dissolving back into hysterical sobs. "She's so n-i-ice!"

Stan, further panicked about Kyle's apparent inability to stop crying even for a few seconds, tried to rub his back consolingly.

"Ky, try to calm down-"

"Y-you're so lucky!" Kyle sobbed further.

Stan felt his own eyes tear up again, worried sick about his friend. Did this have something to do with Kyle's mother? Stan frowned to himself at this; Mrs. Broflovski loved her son to death, even though she didn't always show it.

Stan drew Kyle onto his lap, holding him and rocking him slightly as he cried his eyes out against Stan's chest.

"Shhhh, Kyle," Stan whispered, resting his forehead against Kyle's neck. His own eyes threatened to spill over themselves at this point, and he still didn't know why Kyle was crying. He wouldn't get a decent answer from him until Kyle calmed down.

"Ky, come on," Stan urged him gently. "Try to get a hold of yourself baby. Tell me what happened."

Kyle took a few deep, shuddering breaths before attempting to speak. "M-my mom-" his voice cracked, "Th-there was this girl, and, and then I called you but you were f-flying, a-and I drove her home but first she was eating and now I c-can't go home." Kyle started sobbing again as Stan became further confused.

"Ky, you're not making any sense. Why can't you go home?"

"I'm not allowed to," Kyle hiccupped. "And then I was on the porch, but then I was coming here but then I saw the stars and they were all w-wrong!"

"You were sitting on my porch? Why didn't you come in?" Stan demanded, getting more confused by the second and Kyle's nonsensical babblings.

Kyle shook his head vigorously. "No. The porch," Kyle repeated.

"You mean your porch?" Kyle shook his head again.

"No, it's not mine. It used to be, but not anymore," Kyle stated miserably. He finally seemed to be getting control of his sobbing, reverting now to quieter tears.

Stan gave Kyle a look of complete bafflement. "Why isn't it yours anymore?" He demanded, not liking where this was going.

"It's fucking cold," Kyle stated instead, laughing bitterly to himself through his tears. He sneezed then wiped his swollen eyes, trying to get rid some of the traces of tears on his face.

Stan sympathized with this; sitting outside in the cold in clothes not nearly warm enough for the season couldn't be good for anybody. He ordered Kyle to stand up, pulling his comforter out from underneath them. He wrapped it around both of their bodies before sitting them back down on the bed, leaning them against the wall. Stan's foot brushed against Kyle's; he could feel the cold even through the socks. Kyle's head rested just under Stan's as he waited for his tears to slow and finally stop falling altogether. They eventually slid down the bed until they were lying down on it, heads resting on the same pillow. Kyle's arms crossed over against himself, almost as though he was giving himself a sort of half hug. Stan's arms wrapped tightly around Kyle's body, bringing Kyle as close to himself as he possibly could.

"You love me?" Kyle asked randomly a few moments later, looking for reassurance.

Stan smiled as best he could. "Yeah. I do."

"Say it."

"Ky-"

"I just need to hear you say it, okay?" Kyle felt his eyes welling up again; he angrily pushed them back. He felt his lower lip tremble again, hating himself for being such a pussy.

Stan stroked Kyle's cheek, which by now had warmed up somewhat. "I love you," he whispered into Kyle's hair.

"Yeah?"

"Kyle Broflovski, I love you. You know that, so tell me what happened," Stan said, his tears finally winning the battle as a few trickled down the side of his face.

"Why are YOU crying?" Kyle asked his boyfriend, feeling a little confused.

"Because I want to know what the hell happened to you, what do you think?" Stan cried out, a little exasperated.

Kyle bit his lip. He stayed like that for a moment before finally closing his eyes and resting his head against Stan's neck.

"My mom kicked me out," he murmured, nearly inaudibly.

Stan felt his grip tighten on Kyle as his blood turned to ice. "WHAT?" He nearly screamed out. "WHY?"

"Shhh," Kyle whispered; all of the drama was giving him a headache. "Not so loud."

"Why'd she do it Kyle?" Stan muttered, trying to control his rage and his volume level.

Kyle rubbed his face into Stan's neck before responding. "I told her."

"You told her?"

"That I was gay."

To say that Stan Marsh was angry was the world's biggest understatement. To say he was furious would be a joke. Stan felt his face flush hot as he became enraged.

"What the fuck?" He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling his fists clench against Kyle's back.

Kyle winced slightly. "Ow, dude."

And yet all of that wrath dissipitated in that moment. His hands relaxed and stopped grinding his teeth, finally able to understand Kyle's sorrow. Even if he complained about her all of the time, Mrs. Broflovski was one of the people Kyle looked up to the most, although Stan could never understand why.

"That fucking BITCH," Stan whispered more to himself than Kyle. Kyle merely sighed; maybe Cartman was right all along.

"She set me up, Stan." Kyle started up again after a few moments, speaking quietly. Exhaustion was starting to set it from the trials of Harvard, the late hour and the stress from everything that had happened recently. "With a girl from the synagogue. I didn't know what to do, so I called you but you weren't there."

Guilt started in on Stan again; he wished he could have been there for Kyle right from the start. "I'm sorry," Stan whispered, feeling like shit.

Kyle smiled lightly into Stan's skin. "You were on your plane dude. Like you could have done anything anyways." Stan had to agree with that logic, but he still couldn't totally get rid of the feeling.

"So we had dinner with her, and then my mom made me drive her home."

"But isn't your car still at Harvard?" Stan pointed out.

"She let me drive hers." That event in itself surprised Stan.

"I thought she never let you drive her own car."

"She doesn't. But apparently if Lia was around it didn't matter."

"Lia? That was the girl?"

"Yeah. But when I got back, my mom told me she was planning on setting me up with her like every day of the week."

"What the fuck?!" Stan hissed again. "Fucking controlling bitch-"

"So we got into this fight. She kept asking me all these questions that I didn't know how to answer. It kinda just came out – I didn't mean to tell her." Kyle felt his eyes spilling over again. "I wish I didn't tell her. Why the FUCK did I tell her?" Kyle let out a shuddering breath, keeping his eyes squeezed shut.

Stan, feeling both a mixture of rage and sickness, squeezed Kyle tighter. "It's not your fault Ky."

"But if I didn't tell her …" Kyle trailed off.

"She would have found out eventually," Stan pointed out.

"Hmmm."

"I'm going to talk to your mom dude. She can't treat you like this! We're together, so what, big fucking deal! It's not like you pledged your allegiance to the underworld or some shit like that!"

"No!" Kyle cried out, half panicked. He rolled over on top of Stan so he could look him right in the eye. "You don't understand dude. To her, it IS like that! And don't you DARE tell her it's you I'm with. You know all the shit she's done Stan!" Stan, surprised by the forcefulness of Kyle's words, said nothing. He merely nodded as Kyle collapsed back against him.

"If she did something to keep my best friend away from me, I don't know dude…" he trailed off, feeling his face start to become wet again. Damn all this crying. "Stan, I c-can't lose you. I can't, so don't tell her it's you. Please don't." Kyle whispered.

Stan felt a lump start to rise in his throat. Kyle was right – the bitch had started a goddamn WAR, who knows what else she was capable of. He wasn't ready to lose Kyle any more than Kyle was ready to lose Stan. "O-okay Ky," he responded. "I won't tell her."

"Good," Kyle said.

Stan glanced at his clock – the unearthly hour shocked even him. Barely having to move, he flicked the light off of his bedside lamp without having to move Kyle off of him. He rubbed his hands up and down Kyle's back as exhaustion finally hit both the boys.

"What am I going to do Stan?" Kyle whispered into the dark, feeling incredibly lost.

"I don't know. It's late – we can talk about this in the morning. You're tired, go to sleep." Stan continued to rub small circles on Kyle's back.

"I love you Stan." Kyle lifted one of Stan's arms off of him so that he could hold his hand.

Stan wrapped his remaining arm around Kyle's waist. "I love you Kyle. And you are more awesome than she'll ever know." He felt Kyle shudder slightly against his chest.

"Thanks," was the last thing he said before falling asleep shortly thereafter, dried tears still marked on his face.

Stan lay awake for a while longer, still taking in everything that had happened, trying to make more sense out of it. Kyle was right – it really did make no sense. How could Mrs. Broflovski kick her only biological child out of her home?

Finally giving in to his own tears, Stan stared at the ceiling as they silently fell until he drifted off into a restless sleep.

oOoOoOoOo

Reviews are nice.


	6. Back to Start

Hm, okay I'm moved to London, and am pretty much settled in, so let the sorta fun times continue, heh. Sorry bout the wait. If I could reach 100 reviews this chapter, it would be super awesome! I love how well this is doing. I love you guys. For seriouslah.

Chapter 6 – Back to Start

Stan awoke the next morning – or rather, the next afternoon, with a clouded head and a weight on his chest. He started to sit up, rubbing his eyes, but upon looking down to see Kyle asleep on him, the events of the previous night came rushing back at him. He lay back down, sucking in a breath as he remembered his boyfriend's meltdown and the cause for it.

How the hell could Sheila do this to her son? Stan silently fumed as he absentmindedly ran a hand through Kyle's hair. He felt Kyle's light breaths on the side of his neck, and Stan drew him closer towards his body. A small frown creased Kyle's normally happy face, wrinkling his forehead as he softly breathed in and out.

Kyle groaned something in his sleep, and Stan bit his lip, watching Kyle, hearing his mutterings mumbled near his ear. Was it really so much to ask that Kyle at least have peace in his sleep?

Kyle sneezed and then stirred, waking himself up. He blinked twice before yawning, stretching his legs and then relaxing, falling back into the familiar warmth of his boyfriend.

Stan ran his hand through Kyle's hair once more, resting his fingers on the back of his head while giving the boy a light kiss near his hairline.

"Hey you," Stan whispered softly. A half awake groan emerged from Kyle in response.

"How are you feeling?" Stan prodded gently. Kyle opened one of his eyes at this. He glanced up at the side of Stan's face, almost contemplating his response.

"No," he finally muttered, barely audibly. He proceeded to burrow his face into the crevice between Stan's neck and shoulders, as if finalizing his nonsensical response.

"Ky-" Stan started, cut off by a series of high pitched moans from Kyle, clearly trying to establish that he didn't feel like talking at the moment.

Stan hesitated, thinking of a plan of action. His stomach rumbled, reminding him of the late hour.

"I'm going to go get us some food, 'kay?" Stan informed Kyle, gently prying their arms off of each other. Kyle passively let his arms be pulled off, letting them flop uselessly back to the bed. Stan sat up then headed towards the door, turning back to face Kyle in the doorway.

"I'll be right back," he whispered to Kyle. Kyle responded by rolling over onto his stomach, burying his face in Stan's pillow. Stan hesitated again before leaving the room, heading towards the bathroom rather than downstairs. He shut the door quietly behind him, turning around before running his hands down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a stressed sigh.

He stood there for a moment, trying to get a hold of himself before getting that familiar feeling in his stomach that he knew only too well. A few steps and seconds later, Stan was emptying his stomach into the toilet bowl. He collapsed in front of it and released a series of heaving gasps. His eyes glanced wildly about the small room as he breathed loudly, trying to regain some sort of composure. All of the stress and worry was finally taking their toll on his body, and Stan had to put his head back down twice more before he began to feel any sort of relief.

"Goddamnit," he hissed through his teeth, banging his arms a single time against the rim of the toilet bowl, clenching and unclenching his fists. His vision blurred as tears threatened to overwhelm his eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen! Even he hadn't been able to predict that Mrs. Broflovski would react this harshly. And he wasn't one to undermine people.

Stan sniffed, then wiped his eyes angrily against his wrist. He stood up, flushing the contents of the toilet bowl. He walked over to the teeth, splashing water against his flushed cheeks and neck and rinsing his mouth of the foul taste. He couldn't act like this – he had to keep a smile on his face, for Kyle. If they were both emotional wrecks, then what sort of comfort could Stan hope to provide his boyfriend? Stan nodded to his tired reflection in the mirror, straightening up and forcing the droop in his shoulders to disappear. He had to be the one with the clear head for once, even though his head hadn't felt so cluttered and overwhelmed in years.

He exited the bathroom a few moments later, doing his best to act calm as he headed down the stairs where his mother would surely question him as to what had happened. He entered the kitchen, keeping a lighthearted air about him. His mother glanced over her shoulder, before stopping what he was doing altogether to face her son.

"Oh Stanley, you're up," she stated, pointing out the obvious.

Stan shifted uncomfortably from where he was standing. "Yeah," he responded simply.

Mrs. Marsh took a few steps towards her son before asking the next question.

"Are you alright?"

Stan nodded his head slowly, forcing a smile upon his lips. "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered briefly. Mrs. Marsh frowned, taking notice of the redness in her son's eyes. She held her gaze until Stan finally looked away, releasing another troubled sigh.

Mrs. Marsh raised her hand to touch the side of her son's face, forcing him to look at her again. "Is Kyle alright?" She asked quietly, unsure of the answer she'd receive.

Stan hesitated before shaking his head slowly. "No, I don't think so," he stated, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "He's not."

"What happened?" His mother inquired, wondering if maybe she was asking too much of her son at the time.

Stan shifted uncomfortably again, switching balance on his feet. He didn't particularly want to retell the whole story right now, especially so soon after the incident. He doubt he'd be able to keep his voice under control the whole time anyways.

And yet, his mother had a right to know. She had to be wondering why Kyle had shown up in her house so late at night, crying hysterically.

"His… mom kicked him out," Stan let out in one breath, looking down at his socks on the kitchen floor.

Mrs. Marsh's eyes widened, completely thrown off by this idea. "Because…?" was the single word she was able to expel, and the miserable expression on her son's face told her everything she needed to know.

"Oh, oh Stanley I'm so sorry," was all she said before wrapping her arms awkwardly around her tall son. Stan breathed in the smell of his mother's perfume, forgetting his worries for a brief moment as he allowed himself to be held.

Mrs. Marsh released him after another moment, holding her son's arms lightly. "Is there anything I can do?" She asked, concerned.

Stan shook his head again. "I don't think so, but thanks."

Mrs. Marsh nodded, raising up to the tips of her toes to kiss Stan's cheek lightly. "Well, if there's anything you need sweetheart," she replied, smiling warmly at her son, who nodded dumbly in response, thoughts consumed by something else. He walked over to the fridge, emptying its contents onto the counter, where he fished out two plates and several utensils.

After watching her son for a moment, Mrs. Marsh asked her son a question.

"What are you doing?"

"Makin' sandwiches," was Stan's brief and clipped response.

"Did you want some he-"

"I'm fine," Stan cut her off, frowning at the stubborn lid of the peanut butter container. He was determined to show that he was self-sufficient, that he could handle himself just fine. It was Kyle that needed help, not him.

It was at this moment that Randy Marsh chose to walk through the kitchen, emptying the remains of his coffee mug into the sink.

"Mornin' Stan," he stated simply, completely oblivious to the goings on of the previous night.

"Mornin'," Stan answered, still struggling with the pain in the ass jar.

"You need some help with that?" He asked, glancing at the jar with a bemused expression.

"I'm FINE," Stan reinstated, pushing harder against the lid.

"See, if you just do it like this-" Randy interjected, prying the jar from Stan's death grip. After a few grunts, the lid finally came off cleanly. He handed it back to his son with a friendly smile on his face, while Stan thanked him with a glare.

"I could have done that," He said snidely, setting the jar on the counter harder than was necessary.

Randy snorted rather rudely. "Sure son," he said, almost in a mocking tone while patting Stan's shoulder. Stan gritted his teeth as he viciously thrust a knife into the container.

"Randy, maybe you should leave Stan alone for a little while," Mrs. Marsh stated, worried at Stan's reactions to his father's clueless antics.

Randy snorted again. "I'd say so. What the hell crawled up your ass anyways?" He directed the last part towards Stan, poking him in the side.

Stan shut his eyes, gripping the container tightly. "Goddamnit leave me alone!" He exclaimed, wanting nothing more at the moment than that one small mercy.

Randy took a step away from his son, clearly taken aback. Sharon took Randy by the arm, leading him away from their aggravated son.

"What-" Randy started, only to be cut short by his wife.

"Randy, Stanley's not feeling too well. Please, leave him be." Stan silently thanked his mother for getting his father away from him. He couldn't handle this crap right now.

"Why aren't you feeling well?" Randy inquired, gazing towards his distressed son.

"Because," Stan stated, keeping his calm as he continued making the sandwiches. "Kyle's mom kicked him out of his house."

"…why?" Randy asked, clearly confused. Stan assumed that his mother hadn't mentioned Kyle's and his relationship to his father yet.

"For bein' gay," he answered, keeping his back to his father as he busied himself with his task.

"What, with you?" Randy answered his own question. "She didn't already know that?"

Stan turned around, fixing his father with an inquiring gaze similar to the one on his mother's face.

"What?" He asked his father, confused.

Randy merely shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, it's been what, five years? I figured she'd know."

Stan gave his father a strange look before turning back to the counter. "No dad, it's been like three months." Wow three months, that's been it? Stan thought to himself. Seemed to him like it had been longer than that.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Randy pondered this for a moment. "What a bitch," he commented.

Stan snickered a little. "Yeah," he responded while his mother shouted protests at her husband.

"What?" Randy asked his wife, giving her a wide-eyed innocent look. "What'd I do?"

Sharon opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when another figure appeared in the entrance to the kitchen.

"Hey," Kyle mumbled quietly, leaning a little against the entrance post.

"Hey Kyle," Stan replied equally softly back. If Stan looked terrible, Kyle was a wreck. The clothes that Stan had given him the previous night were rumpled and looked almost uncomfortable to be in. His eyes were downcast, not making eye contact with anything but the floor, and very obvious tear stains as well as bags underlined his normally vibrant eyes.

Mrs. Marsh, being the closest to Kyle, reached him before Stan had barely turned around, and in a wordless movement, she reached up and wrapped her arms around him much as she had to her own son.

Kyle stiffened for a moment, obviously taken offguard, but after a moment he loosened up and hugged Sharon back. It lasted as quickly as it had begun. Sharon released Kyle after a short moment.

"If there's anything you need," she simply stated, exiting the kitchen on that note. Randy stood there awkwardly for a moment before Sharon hissed at him to leave, which he obeyed, grateful for the chance to escape the situation.

"I was making sandwiches," Stan explained to Kyle after a moment of silence, who merely nodded in response.

"I was gonna put in ham, but then I remembered you're Jewish," Stan tried to make a lighthearted joke, forcing another smile on his face.

"Hmm," Kyle mumbled, glancing up at Stan, although not meeting his eyes.

Stan set his knife on the counter and walked towards his boyfriend. He wrapped one arm around his neck, the other around his waist as he drew the boy against himself.

"Hey cutie," he whispered into Kyle's ear.

Kyle let out a humourless laugh. "Did you just call me cutie?" He inquired, sneezing shortly thereafter.

Stan smiled into Kyle's neck. "Yeah, I did. Gonna do something about it?" Kyle smeezed again, rubbing his nose with the back of his sleeve.

Stan rubbed Kyle's back with the arm around his waist, frowning. "Are you getting sick?" Kyle shrugged. A few moments later, he sneezed again.

Stan closed his eyes, breathing in Kyle's musty scent. "Poor Ky. We should take another shower together," he mumbled into his boyfriend's ear. Kyle nodded, resting his head on Stan's shoulder and lightly touching the other boy's sides with his fingertips. Stan vaguely felt a wetness start to develop where Kyle's head rested.

Stan frowned again, pulling Kyle's head from his shoulder with his hands. Each hand gripped a side of his face, drawing their foreheads together.

"Kyle, look at me," he instructed. Kyle's gaze reluctantly to rest upon Stan's face, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"It's going to be alright Kyle," Stan spoke confidently.

Kyle closed his eyes again, opening his mouth as a sigh escaped him.

"Kyle, look at me," Stan repeated. He needed to see something in his boyfriend's eyes that showed him that Kyle believed him, at least to a certain extent.

Kyle kept his eyes closed for another moment before reopening them. "You think?" Kyle bit his lip as he asked Stan this.

"Yeah, I do. It's gonna be alright. You're going to be fine. We'll think of something." Kyle's eyes held a disbelieving stare.

"Don't lie to me, Stan."

"I'm not lying!" Stan insisted. "We'll think of something. I promise." Kyle hesitated before accepting this with a sad nod.

Stan released Kyle's head, bringing a hand down to Kyle's own and pulling him towards the counter. "Help me finish with the food, dude." Kyle allowed himself to be urged forwards, helping his boyfriend with the minute task before heading out of the kitchen with him and into their family area.

They sat down side by side on The Couch, Stan with his legs crossed to balance his plate while he used one arm to hold onto Kyle. They ate in silence while some strange cartoon ran its course on the television screen.

Kyle stared blankly at the screen with a somewhat dazed expression on his face, barely touching his sandwich.

"Hey," Stan said, nudging Kyle, having finished his own plate a while ago. "You should eat. Can't be too good for your health."

Kyle smirked slightly at this. "Thanks mom," he muttered snidely before he even really realized what he was saying. His smirk quickly contorted into a sour look as he looked forlornly down at his lap.

Stan, not sure of what else to do, started rubbing Kyle's back again. A few moments later, Kyle broke out into a somewhat maniacal grin.

"Oh my God!" He exclaimed, nearly upsetting the plate balanced on his legs. Kyle then proceeded to burst into a fit of laughter, and Stan had to move the plate quickly before it shattered on the floor.

Stan couldn't help it – he laughed too. "What dude?"

"I – oh my God Stan, I," Kyle heaved as he tried to speak between bouts of laughter. He waved his hands a little, and turned to face Stan, eyes looking almost wild.

Stan laughed again. "WHAT?!"

"Aw dude, I totally left all my shit at home!" Kyle exclaimed, tears of laughter running down his face. "Everything's there! And oh my God! My insulin!" Kyle doubled over at this onto Stan's lap, laughing almost maniacally.

Stan frowned at this, confused as to Kyle's outburst. "Why is that funny?"

"Because," Kyle choked out, still beside himself, "I need that shit to live! A-and oh my God!" Kyle attempted to wipe some of the tears off of his face "I bet she did that on purpose! Sh-she didn't even give me time to put on SHOES, let a-alone get anything!"

Stan, no longer smiling, sat Kyle back up and wrapped his arms around his still laughing body.

Kyle gave Stan a wild look of a madman. "Oh my God! It all makes sense now! MY MOM WANTS TO KILL ME!" He exclaimed, giggling at the notion.

Stan, worried that his friend may be having some sort of minor nervous breakdown, did his best to console him, despite the fact this was near impossible because he was jerking with laughter. "Kyle-" he started to say.

"My mooom hates me!" Kyle sang out in his offtune voice. "She waaaants me to die!" Suddenly, Kyle stopped laughing at looked directly into Stan's eyes. "Oh my God, do you really think she wants me to die?" He asked, all humor suddenly gone from his voice.

Stan shook his head vigorously, disturbed by the sudden switch in attitudes. "No, Kyle your mom doesn't want that! M-maybe you just surprised her, and she was thinking irrationally about it all."

Kyle contemplated this for a moment. "Maybe. She was pretty pissed off looking."

"Kyle, your mother doesn't want you to die or get sick," Stan restated firmly.

Kyle sneezed. "A little too late for that too huh," he replied, wiping his nose.

"I'm sure she didn't mean to get you sick."

Kyle denied this comment. "Yeah, she did. She fucking PUSHED me outside with no jacket or shoes or anything!"

Stan couldn't think of anything to say to this – Kyle had a point. Kyle rested his head against Stan's chest, considering this.

"Why do you think she did it?" He whispered against Stan, eyes focused unsteadily on the stupid cartoon still playing on the television.

Stan sighed. "Ky, I really don't know."

Kyle paused again. "It really doesn't make any sense to me."

"Me neither."

"Hmm." Kyle stopped talking after this, giving in to Stan's welcoming embrace and falling asleep in his arms shortly thereafter.

Stan readjusted himself, setting him as well as Kyle in a more comfortable position on The Couch. Stan smiled bitterly to himself, remembering how their relationship had more or less started when they had fallen asleep on this same piece of furniture together. Stan shifted again, wrapping one of his arms around Kyle's waist, realizing all over again how well their bodies seemed to fit together. He laid his other hand near Kyle's neck, closing his eyes and feeling their bodies intertwine.

Stan vaguely wondered how everything could have changed so drastically yet stayed the same in the course of one night.

"I love you," Stan finally whispered to Kyle's still body as he himself managed to drift off into another troubled sleep.

Stan was awakened sometime later by a ringing noise. It took him a moment to recognize it as the kitchen phone, and about another half second to choose to ignore it. He didn't want to wake Kyle up – and they both needed sleep, anyways. Kyle grunted, furrowing his brow while he reached a hand out in his sleep, as if looking for something to hold on to.

Stan removed the hand resting near Kyle's neck, bringing his forearm within Kyle's grasp. A moment later, Kyle's wandering hand came into contact with Stan's wrist, and he took a firm hold of it as he brought it back down towards the side of his face. Stan couldn't help but smile at the thought that Kyle was reaching out for him in his sleep.

But there it was; the sound of the phone ringing again. Stan groaned, squishing his face as he attempted to drown out the annoying noise. After a moment, it stopped once more.

Stan had nearly fallen back asleep when the phone started up again.

"Fucking hell," he hissed through his teeth. It stopped, and within seconds it started ringing again. Stan admitted defeat and pried himself apart from Kyle's sleeping form as carefully as possible so not as to wake him up.

Stan stumbled over to the phone just as it was about to stop again.

"H'lo?" He mumbled irritably into the phone as he rubbed an eye. He heard Kyle stir in the adjacent room, and he let out an annoyed groan.

"Hello? Is this Stan?" The shrill voice responded, hurting Stan's ear. He winced, pulling the phone away from his ear for a second.

"Hello?" The voice said again, and suddenly Stan recognized the annoying voice. He clenched the phone in his hand, tempted to throw the phone across the room.

But then his mother wouldn't be too pleased with that, Stan knew. So instead he did something equally satisfying, and promptly hung the phone up on Mrs. Broflovski.

Stan stood there, seething, almost daring the phone to ring again. But of course it did, pissing Stan off further. He let it ring three more times before picking it up reluctantly again.

"What?" He snapped into the receiver. Stan knew he was behaving immaturely, but after seeing how much Kyle's mother had wrecked him, Stan was not feeling particularily amiable towards the woman.

"Hello? That was not very polite of you, young man," Mrs. Broflovski said loftily on the other end. She spoke calmly, as if she hadn't just kicked her only biological child from his childhood home.

"Lost the connection," Stan responded back, using the poor excuse while he forced his mind to wake up somewhat. "What do you want?"

Mrs. Broflovski paused on the other end, obviously taken aback by Stan's cold attitude. "I was wondering if my son was over there."

"I thought he wasn't your son anymore," Stan responded nastily back. Kyle made him promise that he wouldn't tell Sheila that it was him who was dating her son, but he never made him say anything about being friendly towards the bitch.

"Why wouldn't he be my son anymore?" Mrs. Broflovski responded almost as nastily back.

"Because you said so," Stan hissed through his teeth, using his words as venom.

Mrs. Broflovski sighed on the other end. "Stan, listen to me. I don't know what my son said to you, but I think he may be a little upset with me, and I wanted to talk to him."

Stan snorted disbelievingly. "A little upset? He's asleep right now anyways. And I doubt he wants to talk to you."

"Well could you go get him? It's important."

"Mrs. Broflovski, he's asleep. Do you have ANY idea what you've done to him?" Stan almost shouted the last bit into the phone.

"What what what?" Mrs. Broflovski screeched. "How dare you talk like this to me young man!"

Stan was beyond caring what Mrs. Broflovski thought of him. "How DARE you treat my bo-best friend like this?" He retorted, almost as shrilly, tripping over his words. "How DARE you be so f- ignorant!" Stan stopped himself from swearing at the woman at the last minute. That wouldn't go down well at all.

"Stanley Marsh, you go get my son right now! It's imperative that I talk to him THIS INSTANT!"

Stan's eyes widened at this. Why the hell did she want to talk to her distraught son so bad? "Listen, Sheila," he said, using her first name rudely, "You may be able to order HIM around, but you sure as hell won't be doing that to me!"

"Do I need to speak with your mother Stanley?" Sheila tried to threaten.

"Go ahead! Talk to her, see if I care!" Stan exclaimed, nearing his wit's end. "I'll tell him you called when he WAKES up, and until then you'll have to fucking DEAL!" Stan slammed the phone down on the receiver, his hands shaking badly. He then took the phone back off, leaving the dial tone ringing so Mrs. Broflovski wouldn't be able to call back anymore. Fucking bitch, who the hell did she think she was?

Stan stormed back to Kyle, who was lying haphazardly on the couch. He moodily sat down, letting out a long sigh.

"Wh' wassat?" Kyle mumbled, half awake.

"No one, don't worry about it," Stan responded, running a stressed hand through his hair. He'd tell Kyle later.

Kyle sat up beside Stan, leaning his sleepy head on his shoulder. "You alright?"

Stan turned to look at his boyfriend, unnerved that Kyle was worried about HIM when Kyle was the one falling apart. "Yeah, I'm fine," he responded, tilting Kyle's head up towards his own and planting a kiss on his lips.

Kyle kissed him back, sucking on Stan's lower lip as he brought himself closer, sitting on Stan's lap, one leg on either side. Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle's waist, bringing the boy even closer to himself. He couldn't help but release a small moan as he felt their lips connect for the first real time since Kyle had left DeVry. He licked Kyle's upper lip, pulling on it slightly before gaining access into Kyle's mouth.

Kyle's own moan was muffled by Stan's mouth as he twisted them sideways on the couch. Kyle gripped onto Stan's shoulders as he started laying them both down on the warm padding. The crotch of their pants brushed against each other, and Kyle felt an almost instantaneous tightening as Stan moved his body against Kyle's.

"Fuck Stan," he whispered into the other boy's ear, a slight smile on his lips, "you really know how to make me forget about shit." Stan laughed at this, bringing his own mouth back to Kyle's again, where Kyle greeted it eagerly. He slid his hands down Stan's back, reaching under between the material of his jeans and boxers and letting his hands rest there.

Stan smiled into Kyle's mouth as he felt the other boy's hands brush his backside. He felt their tongues collide, releasing a grunt as Kyle ground his body against the other boy's. Kyle broke their tongues apart for a moment as he started sucking on Stan's lips, biting and pulling gently.

Stan didn't need to think twice about it this time. He raised his body ever so slightly so he could worm his free hand between their bodies. He continued letting Kyle pull on his lips as he pulled down the zipper and managed to get his hand through the hole and into Kyle's boxers. He felt a light sprinkling of sweat on his forehead, feeling more turned on than he had in ages.

Kyle felt a sudden surge of surprise and longing through his body as he felt Stan's hand come into contact with his hardening member. "Uhh, fa-fuck," he hissed through his teeth as he shut his eyes, enjoying the sensation his boyfriend was creating within his body. He brought his head to Stan's neck, kissing and biting down it as Stan started rubbing him.

"Uhh, S-Stan," Kyle found himself incapable of saying or doing hardly anything with his boyfriend's hand down his pants. Not that he was complaining.

Kyle somehow refound Stan's face through his blurred vision, rejoining their lips as his legs spread apart ever so slightly, so Stan could gain better access. He sucked hungrily on Stan's lips as Stan wrapped his hand around Kyle's penis and started bringing it up and down his shaft.

Kyle really hadn't experienced anything like the sensation he was going through now. He saw stars burst before his eyes as his vision blurred. He was reduced to a series of grunts and moans as he struggled to keep kissing his lips, encouraging him. And Stan couldn't really be more thrilled that Kyle was responding so well to this, and that he hadn't thrown up yet.

Kyle arched his back against Stan as he felt tension start to build up. "Stuh-aaaahn!" was the final thing he managed to say before he climaxed a few moments later.

Stan finally released his grip on Kyle, allowing the heavily panting boy to attack his face hungrily as he rolled him over, sending them both on the floor. Not that it stopped them – Kyle had his own hand within Stan's pants in seconds, and after another short while Stan reached his own orgasm, shooting his own load inside of his boxers.

The boys finally collapsed against each other, panting heavily as they struggled to regain composure, which was difficult seeing as the both of them could barely move let alone talk. Anyone who walked in would have no doubt in what had been taking place on the family couch moments before.

After a few more minutes, Kyle finally managed to force a few words out.

"F-fuck dude," he panted, resting his head on Stan's chest. "Just… f-fuck."

Stan chuckled to himself between pants, his voice hitching on his own words. "Y-yeah," he agreed with Kyle. "Goddamn."

They lay in silence for another few moments, until Kyle finally found it within himself to pry him up off of Stan, zipping his fly back up.

"We're gonna need new boxers," he commented, smirking with flushed cheeks. He'd be the first to admit what had just happened made him feel a lot better. He smiled to himself, still feeling a sort of afterglow.

Stan made no effort to get up from his back though. "I know," he said, smiling at the ceiling. There was no doubt that both boys were feeling significantly better.

Kyle chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. He finally managed to voice his thoughts after some minor deliberation.

"We'll be okay," he stated, reaffirming both boys.

Stan looked over at Kyle and grinned, thrilled with his more upbeat attitude. He did up his own zipper, closing his eyes with a sigh of contentment.

"We will," he agreed with his boyfriend, finally believing it for himself.

oOoOo

Hehe, sorry about that guys. Don't know what got into me :/ don't hate me. But please! Review sexies! Let's break 100 woo!


	7. Conditional Love

Okay, so here we go once more with this story that is just going to keep getting more and more depressing as time goes on. Oh, I mapped it out: final chapter count will be 18. Two more than I thought. So we still have a ways to go guys. Lots more to bleed outta this sucker.

Yes, I know, I've been a total whore with updates. I thought I'd be updating more, but turns out I'm not the happiest camper right now. Oh well, there's nothing better than angsty real life to fuel angsty style, huh? Kidding, kidding.

Okay, so I owe my wife this dear next little blurb. You people, must absolutely check out Indiana Beach Bum's The Distance Between Us. You know, the woman that wrote Fighting the Truth, the most brilliant story probably ever to hit South Park fanfiction? Most of you probably read it. So go read her new one! It's awesome as well! Um, the gist of it is that Stan's cheating on Wendy with Kyle, and it's all Wendy's point of view. It's about as original as style can get at this point guys, so goooo check it out for the love of Stan and Kyle!

Hey, and while we're at it, I'll advertise another. This story has been going for quite a while, but you should all check out Cjmarie's To Die For You. I'm pretty addicted to it right now. It's angsty, but it's real good and I love the story to death. And the girl is a total sweetheart too :P so go show her some love too, mmkay?

One final thing: Wow guys, Six chapter and over a hundred reviews. Could I BE any more flattered? I think not.

Alright, now on with the story!

Chapter 7 – Conditional Love

Kyle spent the evening with the Marshes, trying to maintain the more upbeat attitude he had recently acquired. Sharon was, of course, more than happy to include Kyle as a member of their family, at least for a little while, while Randy and Shelly didn't really give a damn. The table made pleasant small talk during meal time (except for Shelly of course but that was hardly to be expected), and Kyle had even gone so far as to crack a few jokes and let the occasional smile escape him. Stan was obviously ecstatic with this new turnaround, and took every opportunity to show his boyfriend this, squeezing his hand and thigh enthusiastically under the table while the other boy tried to control the color in his face.

This happier aura around the two boys lasted well into the evening. Stan and Kyle were, actually, watching a movie in the Marsh's family room when the phone rang. Kyle sat through it obliviously, laughing at the screen while Stan was barely aware of the noise, although listening with half an ear. He didn't really make out any words but rather, an incessant babbling coming from the end his mother was not a member of, but when the babbling on the other end increased in volume and refused to stop, not even letting his mother have a single word, Stan's grip on Kyle tightened. He had, of course, completely forgotten to tell Kyle that his mother had called earlier. Their rendezvous beforehand had completely driven it from his mind.

As was expected, Mrs. Marsh emerged from the kitchen with the phone in one hand moments later, looking frazzled.

"Kyle dear, your mother's on the phone for you," she said sweetly, although it was obvious from her facial expression that she'd rather do what Stan had done earlier, and hang up on the overbearing woman.

Kyle's eyes immediately turned away from the screen, looking at Stan and his mother with uncertainty and… fear? Stan silently cursed himself, wishing he had mentioned Mrs. Broflovski's earlier call to the house sooner rather than later.

"She also mentioned something about speaking with you, Stan, earlier," she said, obviously keeping more back than what she knew. More likely than not, Mrs. Broflovski had been taking Stan's behavior out on his poor mother.

Stan could feel Kyle's eyes boring into the side of his face after that comment, so Stan turned his head to meet Kyle's eyes with his own.

"My mom called earlier and you didn't tell me?" Kyle asked, sounding a little hurt.

Stan sighed, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. "No, dude. I was gonna tell you later cause you were upset, but I kinda… forgot," he ended lamely. While Stan wanted to protect Kyle from his bitch of a mother, Kyle did have every right to speak with her if he wanted to.

Kyle looked at Stan's guilty expression for a moment longer before smiling lightly, turning his face back towards his own.

"It's okay, I understand," he told Stan, kissing him lightly on the lips.

Stan kissed him back briefly. "I love you, no matter what," he stated.

Kyle smiled at his boyfriend before taking a deep breath, fully expecting that his mother was calling only because she wanted her ex-son's shit out of the house.

Mrs. Marsh handed the phone to Kyle before taking his place on the couch, beside her son.

"Sheila's a very… passionate woman," she stated after a few moments of silence.

Stan looked at his mother sideways. "You… could say that," he replied. "Do you know what she wanted?"

"No clue," Mrs. Marsh said, the two of them exchanging a small laugh. After a few moments, she gave her son a comforting back pat before getting up to go about her own business. In the background, it didn't seem like Kyle was really getting any words in with his mother either.

After a good five minutes, Kyle hung the phone up and returned to the family room, where Stan looked at him with inquiring eyes.

Kyle stared back for a moment, his skin noticeably paler. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting his red curls fall into his face for a moment before he pushed them away irritably. He looked back at Stan, whose expression had turned to one of concern. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Truth be told, Kyle Broflovski was at a loss for words. He hadn't seen this coming, not in the least, and the raging turmoil that had been previously calmed was roaring around inside his mind once more.

Stan stood up to meet Kyle, who was still standing in the doorway, looking positively dumbstruck.

"What's going on?" He asked Kyle, resting his hand on the other boy's waist.

"She-" Kyle started, pausing again. "She…" Kyle cast his eyes downwards, not able to meet the fierce blue of his boyfriend's.

Stan tilted his head downwards also, so he could lean in and kiss Kyle's mouth. He pulled away only slightly, whispering his words onto the lips of the other. "What happened Ky?"

Kyle kept his eyes closed, breathing in Stan's comforting boyish scent. "She… she wants me home, dude," he finally uttered under his breath.

Kyle heard Stan's breath catch; his surprise was evident. "She WHAT?" He asked, feeling the need to clarify what his ears had just heard.

"She wants me home," Kyle restated, leaning in towards his boyfriend and resting his head on his shoulder, feeling just as worried as he felt.

Stan took this in for a moment, hugging the confused boy back. "Dude, what did she say?"

Kyle took another moment before responding. "She said she made a mistake, and that she was sorry, and wanted me back. Dude, she NEVER admits to being wrong. I don't understand, I've got to be missing something."

Stan frowned at this, silently agreeing with his friend's logic. He pondered this for a few moments, drawing a blank as to possible reasons for this. Instead, he opted to continue holding Kyle, whose brain was still working overtime trying to understand this new change in his mother.

"Are – are you going to go home?" Stan wondered both aloud and to Kyle.

Kyle bit his lip, thinking of an answer to this question. Once he became fairly certain, he backed away from Stan, straightening up.

"I – I think so, dude," he spoke slowly and with precision. "If there's any chance my mom wants me back, Stan, I want to take it."

Stan frowned; it couldn't be this easy. Something was missing. "But Kyle-" he started to protest.

Kyle held up his hand, his facial expression looking almost pained. "Stan, please. I've made up my mind. I – I want my mom to accept me for who I am. And… and I want her to love me." He said the last part roughly, biting back any more tears that may fall past what he had already shed.

Stan nodded his head, understanding this at least partially.

"Heh, and, and I sort of need my insulin back too dude, if it comes to that. And my shoes." Kyle sneezed then looked down at his feet covered by socks that did not belong to him half amusedly, half bitterly.

"You can borrow some shoes if you want," Stan offered, seeing his boyfriend's dilemma.

"Thanks," Kyle muttered, frowning at the fabric.

"When're you leaving?" Stan asked, hopeful that Kyle wouldn't want to go just yet.

"In a bit," Kyle said after a moment, figuring he should calm himself down and prep himself somewhat before leaving.

"Wanna finish the movie?"

"'Kay."

Stan took Kyle's hand and led him back into the room, where they proceeded to watch the rest of the movie, sitting almost awkwardly straight, side by side. Kyle was on ends, trying not to act as jittery as he felt but failing horribly. Stan tried his best to soothe the shaken boy, but the moment he put his arm around Kyle, Kyle jumped ten feet in the air, practically falling off the couch in the process. Instead Stan settled for holding his hand, which was shaking ever so slightly.

Eventually, as all things do, the movie came to an end. The boys sat, staring blankly at the screen as the credits scrolled past. The DVD returned to the main screen, and still Kyle made no movement to get up and leave. Stan flipped through the options, looking for something to delay his boyfriend's departure.

"Wanna check out the bonus features?" He offered, sounding hopeful. Kyle hesitated, before nodding his head with a small smile, grateful for the thousands of pointless features littered on every DVD movie pretty much ever made.

Stan and Kyle managed to waste another half hour going through the blooper reels, deleted scenes and such, but one can only take so many options. Eventually they came to an end, and Kyle began to stir, figuring he should return home sooner rather than later.

"Want to watch the movie in Spanish?" Stan cried out, a little desperately, anxious to get his friend to stay a little longer. Whatever Mrs. Broflovski was hiding by apologizing, it couldn't be good, Stan decided.

Kyle smiled a little before shaking his head, sadly. "I need to go home," he told Stan, who let out a small sigh of defeat and turned the television off. He stood up alongside Kyle, wrapping his arms around his neck, pulling their bodies close together.

"Come back here if you need anything," he whispered into Kyle's hair, kissing the side of his face.

Kyle wrapped his arms around Stan's back, enjoying the embrace. "Yeah, I will," he replied. "Thanks for everything."

"No need to thank," Stan responded, while Kyle snorted a little, deciding to ruin the moment.

"Aw, dude, that's so sweet. I think I'm gonna puke," Kyle pulled away, making a pretend sick face.

"You're gonna puke? I'M the one who said it!" Stan retorted, smiling and making his own sick face.

"Don't hurl on me!" Kyle exclaimed, grinning, shoving him away.

"Make me!" Stan grabbed Kyle by the arm and pulled him forcefully back into himself, biting and nipping at his neck.

Kyle gasped a little, though giggling throughout. "Goddamnit Stan, you can't make me all hot now, I gotta go home!"

"Home can wait a few minutes, can't it?" Stan sniggered, bringing his hand down to the crotch of Kyle's pants, grabbing him roughly through the fabric.

"Staaan!" Kyle half whined, half moaned, laughing genuinely as he temporarily forgot about his cares and planted his lips on his boyfriend's, sucking hungrily.

Using both arms, Stan somehow managed to lift Kyle up to his hips, carrying him over back to the beloved couch.

"Just…for a moment…" Kyle hissed, in the same moment forgetting why 'just for a moment.' Stan dropped Kyle onto the couch, before clambering over the edge and onto the waiting boy.

No sooner had Stan reached Kyle's body when Mrs. Marsh entered the room, carrying a dishtowel. Stan of course, leapt off and away from Kyle, while Kyle stayed lying down, biting his lip as his face changed hues, hoping not but yet knowing that Mrs. Marsh knew he was there.

Stan was only able to catch the expression on his mother's face for a brief moment before the woman practically fled the room, not needing to know what her son and boyfriend SHOULD, by all logic, be doing behind closed doors.

"Shit," Stan murmured, totally humiliated and discouraged as Kyle opted to sit up, pushing his hands against his face in an attempt to cool it.

"G-guess we gotta be more careful where we do that now, h-huh," Kyle said quietly, trying to smile a little.

"Heh, yeah," Stan ran a hand awkwardly through his hair, helping Kyle off the couch and kissing him briefly.

Kyle hesitated a moment. "I really should get going," he told Stan.

Stan nodded, still feeling red in his cheeks. "Call me if you need anything, or come back. No more sitting out in the cold."

Kyle nodded at this, then sneezed. "Kay dude. I will." He kissed Stan's lips one more time before breaking away from him. "I love you."

"I love you too. Want me to walk you home?" Stan offered, still trying to hang on to Kyle as long as possible.

The other boy shook his head at this. "Nah dude, I gotta cool off before I get there," he responded, indicating the heat still not leaving his face.

Stan couldn't help but grin at how cute Kyle looked when he was embarrassed. He walked with Kyle to the front door, digging out a pair of shoes and a jacket for him to wear, which Kyle accepted gratefully.

"I'll talk to you later then? Hope everything goes well," he said to his partner.

"Yeah, and yeah, me too," Kyle said. "I'll let you know how it goes."

"Bye Kyle."

Kyle pecked Stan on the lips one final time. "Bye you." And with that Kyle stepped out of his house and into the cold night, hoping that whatever was waiting at home, it was good.

He walked through the streets briskly, hugging the coat around him as the snowy wind blew against his face, making his cheeks go numb after a few minutes. Luckily, his house was nearby. Kyle walked with a determined pace despite his clouded head, refusing to let himself fret over what would happen when he got there.

Now standing on the doorstep he had been kicked out onto only the night before, Kyle glanced around nervously. He looked up, seeing a fresh new patch of snow on the roof above him. He vaguely wondered what it would be like to fall down on him again. He wondered if he could handle it if his mother kicked him out again.

Kyle continued standing there for a good few minutes before he finally worked up the courage to knock on the door. The harsh cold rattle made his insides freeze, waiting for the door to swing inwards and to be welcomed back into his house.

He didn't have to wait long. Just moments after his knuckles left the solid wood, Mrs. Broflovski almost threw open the door, welcoming her son in with a beaming smile and a bone crushing hug.

"Welcome home buhbie!" She exclaimed once she released him. "I'm so happy you came home!" Kyle looked strangely at his mother and her happy facial expression. He had to be missing something. This mother, this was not the same one as the previous night. The only with the cold, unforgiving eyes, the one who told him he was not a member of the family anymore. Completely taken aback and not sure what to do, Kyle smiled back at his mother, saying nothing for the moment.

"Well come on in!" Mrs. Broflovski ushered her son. "Let me take your coat," she continued, completely ignoring the fact that the coat was not his own, as she had not even allowed her son time to grab one before she had shoved him outside into the cold. Kyle hesitated before he let her take it; this time, he made a mental note, he'd make sure to grab it. If it came to that.

"I made you some dinner in case you hadn't eaten already!" The woman continued, taking her son's arm and leading him into the kitchen. Kyle pondered at this; it really wasn't so different than how she was behaving the other night; only now she was trying to get him to stay, instead of leave. Kyle also wondered how much exactly his mother loved ordering people around. She seemed to do it an awful lot. And was it just him, or did her tone seem somewhat fake? Maybe he was just looking too far into it.

Sheila bustled about while Kyle stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes wandering. He didn't understand it; it looked the same as before, everything was in the same place. And yet it didn't feel the same. He passively allowed himself to be pushed into a chair while his mother attended to him, placing a meal that seemed entirely planned for him in front of his face. It smelled delicious.

As soon as she was done, Mrs. Broflovski took a seat at the table, beside her son. No sooner had Kyle hesitantly raised a fork to his mouth when his hand was snatched from him, Sheila decidedly wanting to hold her son's hand as she began to speak again, perhaps to try to reestablish the broken bond between them. But from the looks of her, Sheila didn't even seen to think anything had changed between them; in fact, it was as if the previous night hadn't happened in her eyes.

"Buhbie, I've missed you so much," she began, acting as though Kyle had run away from home instead of been kicked out from his home. "I tried calling earlier; I suspected you may have gone to your little friend's house, and I was right." She said that last bit smugly, clearly thinking she knew her son inside out. "But he was so rude to me – but oh Kyle! None of that matters now, because you've come home! And I've missed you so much!" Sheila threw her arms around her son again, looking on the verge of tears. Kyle was still taken aback by his mother's drastically different behavior, his mind whirring but not allowing his mouth to formulate the questions he needed answered: Why had she kicked him out? Why did she want him back now? Why was she behaving differently? How was Stan rude to her? What was going on?

Instead of voicing these thoughts, Kyle closed his eyes, willing himself to function. "I-I missed you too, ma."

Sheila withdrew herself, going back to just holding her son's hand in hers, looking at him earnestly. Kyle's eyes met hers, and despite everything that had happened he found himself trapped in his mother's loving gaze. Maybe she really DID want him back. Maybe she HAD accepted him.

Sheila sighed, looking more tired than Kyle had probably ever seen her. "I… I have not been a very good mother to you, Kyle," she started, a hint of pain from admitting that creeping along her face. "What happened last night buhbie… you have to understand, I was shocked and upset. I didn't mean to act so drastically."

Sheila almost winced as Kyle felt shock overpower his face for one brief moment. Was… was his mother admitting she was wrong? That she hadn't been right? Kyle had only seen her do that once or twice in his lifetime with the woman, and it had been over petty things.

"I…I…" Kyle once again found himself at a loss for words.

Mrs. Broflovski smiled at her son. "Shhh, it's okay buhbie. We could have both come to a better… solution than that. But oy, what's done is done, right Kyle? It's time to move on, let the past be forgotten."

"It's… hard to," Kyle admitted, feeling unsure and yet safe with the only woman he'd probably ever love.

Sheila cupped her son's cheek with one hand, forcing their eyes to meet again. "It's going to be okay Kyle. You trust me, don't you?"

Kyle looked back into his mother's earnest eyes, trying to see something evil flittering behind them and not succeeding in the least. He thought back to years before, when his mother had been there for him even when his friends hadn't. He vaguely recalled his Bat Mitzvah, and how proud his mother had looked that day. He remembered her cooking him his favorite soup when he was sick as a child, and how she would spend the day looking after her precious 'buhbie.' How could he not trust this woman? His mother.

"I trust you," he finally replied, smiling faintly and yet knowing the despite what she had done, it rang clear and true.

His mother smiled warmly at him, before giving her son a gentler hug. "I love you buhbie."

Kyle broke at this, hearing the words he had been waiting for. He hugged his mother back, finding acceptance in her arms. "I love you too ma." A few trickles of water leaked down the sides of his face.

They parted after their long embrace, Sheila wiping the sides of her cheeks which were slightly damp while Kyle swiped at his eyes hastily with his sleeve. Sheila looked down at Kyle's uneaten plate of food.

"Eat up, buhbie," she said, "and get to bed early. We have to wake up early tomorrow morning for Doctor Thompson."

Kyle looked up again, once more stopping his fork inches from his mouth. "Who? What?"

Mrs. Broflovski gave her son a sad little smile before continuing. "You're sick buhbie."

Kyle felt rather taken aback like this; how the hell had his mother known enough in advance to schedule an appointment? "Well yeah mom, but I think it's just a cold. It's not bad, I don't need a doctor or nuthin'."

Sheila looked sympathetically at her son. "Oh dear, you have a cold also? I'll make a note to pick you up some cough drops tomorrow when you're at your appointment." She kissed the top of her bewildered son's head lightly.

Kyle looked up at this new woman. His throat felt dry, barely able to pronounce the words. "How… how am I sick?"

His mother looked at him, seeming to not understand her son not understanding. "I should have seen it coming earlier, buhbie. I should have been a better mother also. It's no wonder, you were so busy at Harvard and spending so much time alone to your thoughts, it must have been so lonely for you." Sheila patted Kyle's back at this. "I really shouldn't have been surprised that you started having odd… fascinations."

"Wait, wha-" Kyle got to stand up.

Sheila cut her son off, not allowing him to speak. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay Kyle, I understand. I thought about it last night; I really should have introduced you to Lia sooner. I should have introduced you to nice girls sooner. You've always been so shy around them, buhbie. Maybe that's why this happened. But it's okay now, like I said, the past is in the past. You have to trust me that you're going to be okay. I'm here to help you, my son, and we can beat this together, while you're at home," Mrs. Broflovski ended with a flourish, clearly excited with her new little project, beaming widely at her shocked and dismayed son.

"Bu – but," Kyle sputtered, feeling himself start to panic a little.

"No buts buhbie. We'll have you patched up in no time, and then you can go off to university and meet a charming young woman who you'll fall in love with and marry and spend the rest of your life with."

Kyle found himself choking on his words, feeling the room cave in on him as he struggled to speak. "But… what if… I … don't?" He forced out, staring wide eyed at his mother. Never had he ever felt more betrayed in his life.

Sheila frowned at her son. "Don't be silly, Kyle. Homosexuality is a sin." Kyle cried out slightly at this, not believing what was happening. Sheila ignored this, gently pushing her numb son back into his chair. "Eat up buhbie, your dinner's going cold, and then off to bed. Busy day tomorrow!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. Kyle nodded vaguely, feeling sick to his stomach while staring down at the suddenly unappetizing meal in front of him. He wanted to throw it against the wall. He wanted to see the plate smash. He wanted to yell and scream at his mother for leading him on, for thinking that she understood. Stan had been right. Whatever Mrs. Broflovski wanted, it couldn't have been good. And it wasn't, though the woman seemed quite convinced of the contrary.

But Kyle was not able to do any of this right now. He felt his eye twitch somewhere distant, suddenly feeling apart from his body and its movements as it ate the delicious meal that somehow turned bitter in his mouth, an emblem of his mother's love. Some part of him was still in denial; his mother had hugged him, told him that she loved him then refused to accept the fact that he was gay. Which he was. Wasn't he? He had to be.

After finishing his second dinner that night, Kyle blindly walked up the stairs in a home that didn't really feel his to a room that didn't really feel his. He collapsed on it, his face pushed into a pillow, breathing in its slightly musty smell. Curling into a ball on his side, he wondered how things could have possibly gone so wrong. And for once, he fell asleep almost immediately, face first on his bed, fully clothed and alone.

An hour later, a quiet noise was heard coming from the bathroom while Kyle slept. It played a short tune, imitating the infamous 'Uncle Fucka' from the Canadian movie he had loved as a child. After a few moments, the noise stopped, then started up again almost immediately. This happened four times before Stan left a worried message on his best friend's cell phone, demanding to know what had happened. The tune played again after half an hour, then once every hour for the following five hours before it was finally silent.

Chewing on his bottom lip and staring at the ceiling unable to sleep, Stan Marsh gave up and fell asleep alone also, wondering what ever had become of his boyfriend.

---

Sometimes, reviews can be nice :P


	8. Desodimization

Hey guys! Once again comes the time to update said story, that I have not given up on. Sorry for the ridiculously long break – due to some happy circumstances, some… not so. I had a brief floating away from style, but the story is back on track again! Also my wife and I have not given up on teaching style. It WILL continue, I assure you.

I don't have much else to say. For anyone who's still reading this story, this chapter is dedicated to you. Thanks for all your support. Nyrehtak, thank you especially for your review – really made me kick myself in the face and go 'update, damn you!' And of course, thanks for the support, my loyal reviewers.

This chapter is quite controversial, I think. The opinions expressed are not my own. But I think you guys know that by now ;). And I know the chapter's name isn't a real word too :P.

P.S. I hope I have everything right. I did a fair bit of research for this chapter.

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Chapter 8 – Desodimization

"You'll like Dr. Thompson so much Kyle!" Mrs. Broflovski stated emphatically, paying as much attention to her son's facial expression as she was to the road; not much. "She's such a nice lady. I remember meeting her one time at our synagogue, and I always thought she looked like such a pleasant person!"

Kyle, not really listening to his mother's incessant babbling, took refuge in staring out the passenger side window of his mother's car through bleary eyes. He had slept on and off all night long, constantly awakened by dreams of his mother's smile and words following him around wherever he went. He coughed lightly, his cold becoming more developed since the time he got it.

Mrs. Broflovski frowned, reaching over and feeling her son's forehead with the back of her hand. Shrugging, apparently at the lack of a result, she turned her focus back to the road.

"No fever yet buhbie, but we'll nip this thing in the bud; don't you worry." Kyle wasn't entirely sure which 'thing' his mother was speaking about – his cold or his apparent 'mental condition'. He wished his mother would have just let him sleep instead of prying his body out of bed near the crack of dawn to meet with some crazy fixing lady. Kyle wished he had remembered to call Stan. He wondered what Stan would have said about all this.

_"What? Are you going to let your mother do this to you Kyle? You don't have to take this shit!"_

Kyle sighed. Probably something like that. And he would have been right too. Why was he doing this anyways?

"-and I remember that she dressed so smartly, but oh – Kyle I can make that soup for you, like how you liked when you were sick when you were little! You always loved it. I'll pick up the ingredients while you are with the doctor – and some cold medicine too."

Kyle smiled weakly at this, his mind off somewhere else. He wondered what his mother's to-do list looked like for the week. _'Pick up onions, drop off rental movie, get cold medicine for son, take Ike to friend's house, take son to shrink to make him straight…' _

"Kyle?" Mrs. Broflovski was looking at her son. Had she asked him a question?

"Uhh…" Kyle stuttered, the first noise he had made in hours.

Sheila smiled sympathetically at her boy. She reached a hand over and clasped his knee gently. "Don't worry buhbie," she spoke gently. "It's going to be all right. Doctor Thompson is very good."

'Yeah, too bad she has nothing to fix,' Kyle thought to himself. He vaguely wondered how the doctor would see things – if Kyle could get her to see his way instead of what his mother had probably told her, maybe it would help his mother accept him. Maybe this would be a good thing after all…

Or maybe she was some religious Torah-thumping crazy woman who was convinced her purpose in life was to help 'confused' people find 'the path of the Lord.' Kyle shuddered at the notion.

"She has a degree from HARVARD Kyle, isn't that funny?" Mrs. Broflovski forced out an amused laugh, keeping her tone light. Kyle failed to see that how the psychiatrist he was going to see had a degree from the same university he was attending was amusing in any way. He stared out the window again.

Tree…tree…car….tree…roadkill…

Mrs. Broflovski turned on the radio to some Jewish station, humming the Hebrew words to the song playing and interjecting random comments about Doctor Thompson every once in a while. Kyle remained silent for the rest of the drive, thinking about nothing and everything all at once. He wanted to be back in Stan's bed. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be left alone.

Several melodies later, Kyle's mother pulled up into the driveway of an old-fashioned house. It was two-storeyed, with a brown shingled roof and old white masonry rimming the outside. Vines crept up one side. A child's swing set could be seen in the backyard.

"Doesn't Doctor Thompson have a… clinic?" Kyle asked, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

"Doctor Thompson works from her home!" His mother replied brightly. "She has two young children and her husband works full time, so she has no choice. She could put her children in daycare, I suppose, but she wanted to raise them herself. What a wonderful mother!" All Kyle could think of was how sketchy this all sounded to him.

He followed his mother up to the porch, where Mrs. Broflovski knocked briskly three times. A few moments passed, and Mrs. Broflovski almost started to knock again when the door flew open, revealing a skinny woman with a toothy smile.

"Sheila! Come in, come in!" She exclaimed, stepping back and spreading her arms wide, a sign of welcome.

Kyle and Sheila stepped into the home. It was decorated with red and gold, the inside looking almost as antique as the outside did. There were old chairs and a sofa accompanied with a side table that looked like it predated the first world war. There were two little girls seen sitting on the floor, colouring a picture of what appeared to be Moses parting the Red Sea. They looked up from their work with wide eyes, quickly rushing towards their mother to see what the commotion was.

Doctor Thompson was a tall slender woman, with brown curly hair streaked with traces of gray. Her hair was held up in a purple headscarf, perfectly matching the colour of her skirt. Her blue eyes were rimmed with a pair of eyeglasses and the Star of David hung round her neck, as did with her children also. He spotted an out of season menorah on the end table, and faintly smelled matzah in the air. The house reeked of Jew. Cartman would have had a field day burning the place down.

The psychiatrist closed the door behind the two strangers to the house. She kissed Kyle's mother briefly on the cheek in a sign of friendship before turning her attention to him.

"And this must be young Kyle!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms wide and embracing the startled boy momentarily. "It's so nice to meet you!"

The older of the two girls approached Kyle, taking his hand in hers. "Yes, it's so nice to meet you," she spoke clearly. "We've heard a lot about you. I'm going to dedicate my life to helping troubled youth like you the same as mummy."

Doctor Thompson smiled gently, giving her daughter an affirmative pat on the head. "This is Maya," she introduced her curly haired, blue eyed daughter. "She's ten years old."

The other daughter poked her head out from behind her mother's skirt. "The Lord loves you Kyle," she spoke in a childish drawl, "and he wants you to be happy."

Kyle, obviously taken aback by the forwardness of the two children and the maturity level at which they spoke, was only able to smile back while his face conveyed shock. How was it possible that, looking down on these two young girls, they were able to be him feel inferior to THEM?

"And Samantha is eight," Doctor Thompson introduced the other blushing child. "Oh, and I didn't even think to introduce myself. I'm Doctor Renee Thompson, but you may call me Renee," she stated, with a wink and a smile. Kyle nodded dumbly, looking suspiciously at Maya, who was still holding his hand.

"Let me sit you down," Maya told Kyle, pulling on his hand and directing him towards the sofa. Receiving a nod from the 'doctor' Kyle was obliged to follow the little girl, her head reaching just about his waist. Kyle was both intrigued and disturbed at how closely her mannerisms already seemed to reciprocate her mother's. Doctor Thompson remained standing with his mother, chatting briefly, apparently about her son's condition.

Samantha soon followed, taking Kyle's other hand and leading him on as well. They all sat down on the couch together, Samantha clamboring onto Kyle's lap while Maya sat beside him, still holding his hand.

"Now Kyle," Maya spoke far too seriously for a girl her age, "I heard from mummy that you have been having unholy desires." Kyle stared at the girl for a moment before shaking his head roughly. Had he heard correctly?

Samantha giggled. "I like your name, Kyle."

Kyle turned his attention to the younger of the two girls. "Uh… thank you," he replied, making the girl beam in return.

"I have a friend who is a GIRL named Kyle!" Samantha and Maya both laughed out loud. 

"Kyle! Kyle! Kyle!" They began to chant in unison.

"Oi!" Their mother, overhearing the chant, called at the girls from where she was standing with Sheila. "Leave poor Kyle alone, you two!"

"But I want to help you!" Maya protested, her lower lip protruding.

"You can help me when you are older, okay Maya?" The doctor negotiated.

"But mooom-"

"Why don't you help your little sister finish her picture so you can show daddy when he gets home?"

The faces of the two girls lit up at this.

"Okay!" Maya exclaimed, finally releasing Kyle's hand to hop down from the couch.

"Picture!" Samantha shrieked, getting off of Kyle's lap and plopping herself down beside the image.

"Moses is my favourite!" She declared, excitedly scribbling in brown hair.

"Me too!" Giggled Maya, bouncing a little.

_'Oh my God,' _Kyle thought to himself. _'What did I do to deserve this?'_

Kyle sat on the couch, watching the girls colour all over their pictures. It was another few moments before Renee bid his mother farewell and took a seat on the chair facing the sofa Kyle was on.

"Now then," she smiled warmly at the boy, adjusting her glasses. "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself then, Kyle?"

Kyle eyed Maya and Samantha, who had stopped colouring again to listen to their mother talk. "Uh… don't you have a separate… office for this? Or something?"

Renee laughed shrilly. "Well then I wouldn't be able to keep an eye on these two young rascals, then would I?" She replied, gesturing towards her daughters, who laughed at being mentioned.

"But… they're okay, hearing all this?" Kyle pried further, forehead wrinkling with confusion.

Doctor Thompson brushed this off with a wave of her hand. "Not to worry, Kyle. My daughters are devout followers of the Torah. And don't worry," she there winked at Kyle, "I am very selective of the patients I allow in front of my daughters. I trust you won't let me down in choosing you. They don't pay much attention either."

Kyle looked between Renee and the two child, staring wide-eyed at Kyle, making him feel increasingly awkward. No wonder these children seemed so warped, if they sat in on every session their mother had with a 'patient.'

"Don't worry," Renee repeated, sliding her chair a little closer and taking his hand, "it's good for them to hear the words of the Torah. Most of my patients feel a little awkward having my daughters nearby at first, but don't worry, it passes very quickly."

"I love the Torah!" Maya suddenly declared. Her mother responded with a laugh.

"Well then Kyle, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" She repeated.

Kyle watched the two girls out of the corner of his eye, trying to focus his attention on Doctor Thompson and failing. "Uh… well hasn't my mom told you everything already?" They had been talking a while, after all.

Doctor Thompson frowned slightly, taking a pen and notepad off of her end table. She scribbled something down on it.

"Kyle, do you and your mother participate in Orthodox Judaism?" She asked casually, looking at him above her glasses.

"Uh…no, we're Ashkenazi," Kyle responded warily, not sure whether this was the right answer or not.

"Ah, so you descend from Europe then?" she continued.

"…Yeah…" Kyle replied, unsure of where she was going with this.

Little Samantha gasped at this. "The horror-caust was terrible!" She exclaimed, promptly bursting into tears. Maya immediately hugged her sister.

Renee shook her head fondly. "Samantha is so sensitive," she explained to the bewildered Kyle.

"Poor Kyle!" Samantha sobbed into her sister's shoulder.

Renee stood up to go over to her daughter, picking her up off the ground. "There, there," she told Samantha. She then proceeded to whisper something into her ear that Kyle could not hear, which apparently cheered the girl up significantly, seeing as she immediately stopped crying.

"Can I have a cookie?" she asked her mother, pulling at a lock of hair.

"Okay," her mother replied, kissing her daughter on the nose. Samantha giggled. "You go get one for your sister too. Why don't you two take your colouring into the kitchen and finish it up there? I think Kyle's not used to having you two around," she whispered the last part to her daughters very audibly.

Kyle very much felt like saying 'Uh hello? I'm still here, you know.'

"Oh but we like Kyle!" Maya said, running up to Kyle and attacking his waist. She looked up into Kyle's green eyes. "Don't worry Kyle, we're going to fix you all better," she stated. Kyle raised both his eyebrows at the girl, thoroughly freaked out by the earnestness of the child's statement.

"Okay you two, off to the kitchen," Renee declared, clapping her hands. The girls went scampering off into the room next door, taking their crayons and pictures with them.

Renee sat back in her chair. "Sorry for all this delay," she spoke softly, making a silly face that Kyle was repulsed by. "Hopefully you'll be more comfortable now to open up to me. I want to help you Kyle."

The doctor sat silent, apparently awaiting some response from Kyle, who had none to give. He wished the appointment was over already.

"Right," the woman stated before clearing her throat and adjusting her glasses again, "So Kyle, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

The unprofessional air of the woman baffled Kyle. "What exactly are your qualifications?" He burst out saying.

Renee frowned, gesturing towards a wall that displayed several certificates, ones that were often found boastingly presented in the offices of doctors and dentists. "Today is not about me, Kyle dear. Today is about you."

"But, the thing is," Kyle protested, finally getting some of his 'spunk' back, "I don't really even think it's that big a deal. Why should it be?"

Renee's eyes narrowed. "Hasn't your mother taught you that homosexuality is a sin?"

Kyle paused, regarding his mother's painful words the night before. "…Well, yeah…she's told me that, but-"

"Tell me Kyle, are you familiar with the Torah?"

Kyle paused. "I've read it a few times."

"Then perhaps you could recite for me, the passage of Leviticus, 18:22?"

Kyle refrained from rolling his eyes. Go figure she'd bring that one up. "וְאֶת זָכָר לֹא תִשְׁכַּב מִשְׁכְּבֵי אִשָּׁה תּוֹעֵבָה הִוא," he answered, in perfect Hebrew.

"And do you know what that means, Kyle?"

"A man shall not lie with another man as he would with a woman, it is a toevah. It's pretty much in the Bible too."

"Good, so you recognize that at least. Can you tell me Leviticus, 20:13?"

Kyle closed his eyes, struggling to remember the passage. "וְאִישׁ אֲשֶׁר יִשְׁכַּב אֶת זָכָר מִשְׁכְּבֵי אִשָּׁה תּוֹעֵבָה עָשׂוּ שְׁנֵיהֶם מוֹת יוּמָתוּ דְּמֵיהֶם בָּם."

"And in English, Kyle?"

Kyle paused, hesitant.

"What does it mean in English Kyle?"

"A man shall not… lie with another man as he would with a woman; the…two of them have down a toevah; they shall be put to death; their bloodguilt is upon them."

"Do you know what a toevah is Kyle?" Renee demanded.

"Yes."

"What is it Kyle?"

"A toevah comes from to'eh ata vah. It means you deviate from what is natural."

"What other sorts of things are considered toevah, Kyle?"

Kyle's eyes darted around the room. He had never really given much thought to the Torah – it was basically just a thing for him to memorize. Another thing in his pocket. And he wasn't about to live his life from two lines written thousands of years ago. He wondered how much damage he'd cause himself if he escaped by catapulting himself through the window.

"Kyle, I know you know this. What other things are categorized along with homosexuality?"

"Sex not for the purpose of birth, adultery, murder, idolatry and incest, okay?" Kyle answered, a little hostility showing in his voice. "What sort of shrink are you anyways? I thought you were supposed to let me talk about what I did today, and how that made me feel, and other shi – stuff," he corrected himself, still within hearing range of the girls.

Renee smiled eerily at Kyle. "I am not that type of psychiatrist Kyle. I am a religious doctor – I help people to confess their sins and become better people. So tell me – what do these passages, written within the Torah itself, mean to you? Surely such blatant refutes have some sort of effect on you."

Kyle shrugged. "The Torah is a book that was written thousands of years ago revised several times since the copy we know today. The two lines could have been a simple mistranslation. Religion to me is more of a series of stories to guide your life by – you know, like don't kill anyone, be kind to your family and so on."

Doctor Thompson sighed, running a hand through her hair. She decided to try another tactic.

"So…Kyle," she spoke carefully and precisely, "Why is it that you are having these… feelings? Have you found someone of the same sex you feel… attracted to?"

"That's not really any of your business," Kyle hissed, becoming angry, immediately putting himself of the defensive. His mother would be angry with him for acting this way later, he knew, and he'd hear about it, but there was no way in hell he was going to betray Stan.

Renee smiled, a hint of a smirk being cleverly hidden clearly showing she thought herself the superior here. "Ah, so you have."

Kyle closed his eyes, his face flushing hot. He urged himself to calm down – this woman would not get the better of him.

"Kyle, listen to me. Maybe it is not the person you are attracted to. Maybe a part of their personality reminds you of something else. Maybe you just feel very close to the person naturally – a good friend, perhaps? Or a certain quality that reminds you of something you have yet to have found within a woman."

Kyle shook his head. "No. That's not true."

"Kyle, has this person shown you any hint of attraction back? Attraction is a sexual force, one that weakens the person. There are more important forces. For example, you need to have an emotional connection with the person. A spiritual one also."

"You don't understand!" Kyle exclaimed, seething. "You don't know anything! We DO have an emotional connection and one stronger than most people will ever know! He-" Kyle cut himself short, cursing himself for saying so much.

"You may think you do Kyle, but the love a man feels for a woman and a woman feels for a man is true, pure and real. And you, supposedly, have not experienced this yet. You are a college student Kyle, and you are not yet wise of the ways of the world. You have much yet to experience."

Kyle shook his head vigorously again. "I know THIS, I know this," he spoke, closing his eyes for another moment.

Renee was now playing off of Kyle's obvious emotions. "You know you are not the only one you are hurting here Kyle. Do you not realize that you are not only damning yourself, but also this person you THINK that you care so much about to hell?"

"I am not!" Kyle rejected, glaring at the woman, his teeth clamped together in frustration.

"You are Kyle. And that's incredibly selfish of you. Don't you want them to lead a good life? What's best for them?"

Kyle paused at this new angle. He was selfish? He didn't think he was. "Is love selfish?" He asked the doctor, looking at her expectantly.

Renee looked perfectly calm; upsetting Kyle even more. How dare she be so calm while attacking him? "This is not love Kyle. No matter what you think, it isn't."

"Yeah, it is!" Kyle shouted, startling the woman slightly. She scribbled another few notes down while Kyle sat there, enraged.

"What are you writing about me?!?!" Kyle yelled at the woman, swiping at her notebook. Renee held the book away and put her hand over Kyle's once more.

Kyle jerked his hand away.

"Kyle, calm down," Renee urged. She reached out for his hand again, this time refusing to let it go while Kyle struggled under her gaze. "Kyle, look at me. There is no need to be upset. The only reason you are reacting this way is because you know the truth in my words."

Kyle covered his face with his free hand, feeling utterly helpless under this woman's strange logic. "No, that's not it," he whispered to himself.

Kyle's defenses falling, Doctor Thompson abandoned her notebook to sit beside the distraught boy, patting his back reassuringly. "Kyle, it's going to be alright. Your mother tells me that you are a wonderful boy. A smart boy. One day you will find a woman. And you will fall in love with her. And you will marry her."

"But, I-I don't want a woman," he muttered into his hand, shrinking away from the woman's touch. The feeling of her fingers of his back repulsed him.

"You just haven't found someone yet," Renee soothed. "Give the right girl for you a chance before you sign your soul away to the devil."

"Sign my soul away to the DEVIL?" Kyle repeated incredulously. He shrugged out of the woman's grip and sat on the opposite end of the couch, practically snarling. "How DARE …you! You! What's wrong with you?"

Mrs. Thompson seemed entirely unaffected. "I think the question more is, what's wrong with you, Kyle. Why are you so angry? I know you feel lost right now, but spitting harsh words at me is not going to help you any."

At this point, Samantha took the opportunity to run into the room, holding a coloured picture up with two hands.

"Look mamma! It's all done!" She said enthusiastically.

Renee looked down at her daughter and smiled. "It's lovely dear," she stated. Samantha crawled up on the couch, next to Kyle.

"Why do you look so angry, Kyle?" She inquired, concerned eyes staring up into Kyle's face, judging him.

"Kyle's just having a little trouble finding his place in life, that's all," Renee told her daughter coolly. Kyle's mouth dropped, openly staring at the nerve of the woman.

Samantha stood up on the couch to kiss Kyle on the cheek. "It's okay Kyle," she whispered in his ear. "You don't need to be scared. The Lord loves you the way you were meant to be."

Kyle's head was beginning to undergo the now familiar spinning sensation. He couldn't even begin to comprehend the gall of Renee and her children – they were just as bad as she was. '_This whole family is fucking sick,' _Kyle told himself, trying not to mutter these words out loud.

"Samantha, why don't you go back to the kitchen with your sister?" Doctor Thompson addressed her daughter. The girl complied, skipping out of the room, humming a tune.

"This… this IS the way I was meant to be," Kyle murmured weakly to himself. He was growing tired of this ridiculous argument, and was frustrated to no end. So much for getting Renee on his side.

"No, no it isn't Kyle," Renee gently responded to his muttered comment. "You have a choice Kyle, whether you think you do or not. You can choose to be straight, if it's really what you want."

"And if it isn't?" Kyle muttered under his breath.

The doctor scooted closer to Kyle, taking his hand back in hers. "It is, Kyle," she whispered. "It's the way you were made. He will forgive you if you pray for it. And He will forgive your… the person you feel … too. You want that don't you?"

Kyle stared dully at his knees. "Iunno," he murmured, trying to bring himself to say something more.

"If you love him so much, you'll let him go and be with who he's meant to." Renee stroked the back of Kyle's hand gently. "Let him be free to pursue more… acceptable acts. And by doing this, you'll free yourself also."

Kyle's defenses down, not wanting anything more in the world to go home, slumped slightly in his posture. "Why's it so wrong anyways?"

"It's not a holy act, Kyle. It's not natural."

"But why isn't it natural? I always thought it felt that way."

"It's sin."

"Why though?" Kyle cried out, exasperated. "Why is it sin to love someone? Why isn't it natural?"

Renee paused for a moment. "It's the Lord's will Kyle."

"Hmm." Kyle didn't bother continuing with this argument.

"Look Kyle," Renee started, "this is going to be a big step away from what you're comfortable with now. But it's the right thing to do, for both of you. Just… think about it, okay?"

Kyle nodded numbly, hoping it would make the woman leave him alone.

Renee kissed Kyle's forehead, before releasing his hand and backing away from the alienated boy. "I feel we've made some real progress here today, Kyle. I'll let you sit here and think about what we've discussed in the last few minutes we have left."

Kyle sighed in relief as the woman left the room. He rested against the couch, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. For once… Kyle just wanted to stop thinking.

_'You are not a gay man, Stan Marsh.'_

Could the words of Stan's ex girlfriend hold a grain of truth to them? What if Stan really wasn't gay? Maybe only Kyle was. Or both. Or neither? What if everyone else was right, and Kyle was wrong? Why was everyone against him? Kyle let out an audible groan.

Roughly ten minutes later, Sheila Broflovski returned from her errand running to pick her son up. Kyle heard the car and immediately dashed out the door, throwing on his coat and shoes. He heard a chorus of 'Bye Kyle!' on part of Maya and Samantha echo behind him.

"Hi mom let's go!" Kyle announced enthusiastically to his mom, practically tearing the door handle off the hinges and throwing himself inside.

Sheila frowned at her son. "Hold on buhbie. How did it go?"

"ItwasgreatIthinkI'mcured!" Kyle blurted out, ready to say anything to get away from the dreadful woman's house.

"Really? That's excellent news Kyle! I'm just going to go inside and speak with Doctor Thompson for a moment, okay? I'll be right back." Sheila made to get out of the car.

"Wait mom!" Kyle shouted after her, dreading the thought of Renee telling his mother everything he had said. "She's busy with her kids right now!"

"Oh I won't be a moment," Sheila brushed off her son. "You may wait in the car if you want though." And with that Sheila closed the door, leaving Kyle alone in the car as he awaited to hear his mother's screams. She probably really WOULD kick him out now, after all he had said to the crazy lady. He doubted she'd go with patient confidentiality. She didn't go with any other conventions.

Biting his lip and trying to forget his horrible morning, Kyle closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the cool window, desperately wanting to fall asleep and turn this all into a bad dream. He wanted Stan with him bad. He wanted Stan to tell him it'd all be alright, and that Doctor Thompson was insane and didn't know anything.

Because the truth was, Kyle needed Stan more than anything else right then. Because there was one thing that Renee managed to stir up in the back of Kyle's mind that he had never felt in his relationship with Stan ever. And he wanted Stan to make it go away. He wanted to be far away from his mother and Maya and Samantha and Renee and everything that reminded him of them.

Because the one thing that scared Kyle more than anything else right then was the doubt he was feeling over his relationship with his best friend.

oOoOoOo

Bribe me with reviews. Please. :


	9. Is it?

Hooray for faster updates. Thanks for not giving up on me.

Note: I apologize for Kyle's language. He ish crazy. (makes crazy signal)

Chapter 9 – Is it?

Mrs. Broflovski returned to her car roughly ten minutes later, where Kyle was anxiously awaiting the angry words that would surely pour from her mouth, and a possible lack of a ride home.

Instead, when Sheila reentered the car, she smiled at her boy and gave him an affirmative nod, ruffling his hair.

Kyle, shocked beyond all belief, felt compelled to ask. "What'd she tell you, ma?"

Mrs. Broflovski showered her son with a second approving smile. "She said you're a good boy, and I should be proud," she replied boastfully. "She wants to see you a few more times, at least. Once a day I expect, until she feels that you're ready to go out on your own. She feels she made some real progress today. I'm proud of you buhbie."

"W-what else did she say?" Kyle responded, feeling first thrown, and now rather suspicious. What about his blatant refusal to accept anything Dr. Thompson had said?

Sheila frowned momentarily. "Well she didn't tell me much else buhbie, Dr. Thompson said she didn't want to violate client-doctor confidentiality, not even to their own mother. But-" Sheila sighed at this, "I suppose that's for the best. Why, is there anything else you wanted to tell me, Kyle?" Sheila looked at her son with expecting eyes.

"Uh, no ma," Kyle responded, eyes still widened at the shock of hearing Mrs. Thompson adhering to a professional practice. "Not really much else to share right now."

Mrs. Broflovski sighed. "I hate secrets kept from me."

"No secrets mom, honestly," her son responded. '_Except maybe everything I said,' _he finished in his mind. Why had Renee followed through with this one aspect of her business, and nothing else? What was she trying to accomplish here? Kyle closed his eyes again, leaning his head against the window once more. He willed every thought to leave his mind, to become one with nothingness.

Instead he was taunted with visions of the morning replaying in his brain, picking bits apart and fast tracking through some areas, slow tracking through others.

Kyle was interrupted from his thoughts with a touch on his shoulder.

"Maybe you should lie down when we get home, Kyle – you look tired," his mother soothed.

Kyle nodded numbly, thinking that this was the best idea she'd had all weekend. Had he really only been home two days? It seemed like much longer. Two days with his mother – or, partially with his mother – and he already needed escape. Kyle closed his eyes and fancied himself in the middle of a field, stretching for miles in every direction. No person was in sight as he fell contentedly backwards onto the grass, forgetting the world and enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face.

Kyle rolled onto his side in the cool grass and was immediately brought nose-to-nose with Stan. Stan was glaring at him, looking disheveled and angry.

"Why didn't you call me? Where the fuck are you?" Stan demanded, poking Kyle in the side accusingly. "What the hell Kyle!"

Kyle was immediately brought back to reality. "Oh shit!" He exclaimed, before covering his mouth with wide eyes and glancing fearfully towards his mother. He had just gotten on her good side! He didn't want anything to mess that up right now!

Mrs. Broflovski, of course, frowned at her son. "Language, Kyle!" She scolded. "We as intelligent members of society do not use those filthy words! I'd thought Harvard would have taught you that at least," she sighed, with a shake of her head. Of course she didn't ask her son why he'd made that random exclamation. She was more concerned with the word itself, not the reason behind it.

Kyle, standing corrected, looked glumly out the window again. The drive home seemed a lot longer than the drive there. Inwardly, Kyle cursed himself for behaving indecently in front of his mother. He needed to keep her happy or else she wouldn't keep him. He had to be good if he wanted to win his mother's love back. Misbehaving and bad language would only get him thrown out of the family for good.

Upon arriving home, Kyle immediately excused himself to lie down in the room claiming to be his. He slept fitfully for the rest of the morning, before giving up in exasperation around one in the afternoon. Upon awakening he found a thermometer, a package of cough drops and a sandwich by his bed. And an extra blanket on top of him. No wonder he was so hot.

Trodding downstairs, Kyle decided he needed to go see Stan that afternoon at least and tell him what had happened. After a fruitless attempt at finding his cell phone, he gave up and informed his mother of his departure. Mrs. Broflovski was reluctant given Stan's past treatment of her but in the end decided to allow it, figuring at least Stan would be a positive straight male influence on her son.

Kyle found it very hard to keep his face straight when his mother told him that.

While walking over to Stan's house, Kyle followed the footprints he had made two nights ago still embedded in the snow. They were misshapen and off balance looking. Kyle walked over them, creating bootprints where his socked feet had previously marked the ground. He vaguely wondered what he would tell Stan. He had promised to call him, after all. Last night. Kyle hoped Stan wasn't as mad as he had been in his daydream.

Kyle followed his footprints into the middle of the street where they became lost with car tracks, and back out again, around a tree and to the foot of Stan's driveway before walking up the porch and knocking hesitantly.

Having just recently woken up, Stan was still in his boxers when he trodded to the door, scratching his ass along the way. Upon opening the door he found Kyle staring ashamedly at his feet, completely unsure of what to say.

Stan frowned for a moment, before it clicked in his sleepy mind that he had been very much worried about where Kyle had gotten to, especially since he hadn't answered his phone all night. Kyle still stared at the ground. Stan was bewildered by this behavior. He looked Kyle up and down – upon finding no marks on him of immediate concern, Stan relaxed slightly and reached out to take Kyle's hand.

Kyle, upon seeing his boyfriend's outstretched hand, finally managed to break his fascination with his boots to look up into Stan's inquiring eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice catching in his throat.

Stan frowned, further confused. "You're sorry? For not calling?"

Kyle nodded vigorously, apology burned into every feature on his face. He really didn't want Stan mad at him too. He couldn't take that right now. He needed him. This tall dark haired wonder that was his best friend and partner. "I should have called, I'm sorry I forgot and I know I shouldn't have, because it's you but I did and I'm so sorry…" Kyle trailed off, not sure of what to say next.

"Woah Ky, calm down, it's okay," Stan replied automatically, completely taken aback by his friend's frightened apology. He took Kyle's arm, seeing as the boy had yet to take his hand, and led him inside. Kyle allowed himself to be led passively. Stan enveloped Kyle in a hug, pulling him close towards himself.

Somewhere in the back of Kyle's mind, a feminine voice was screaming 'bad touch! Bad touch!' but he forced himself to ignore it. This was good. It felt good. Kyle bristled a bit before sinking back into Stan's arms, slowly drawing his own arms around the other figure.

Stan closed the door behind him with one hand before drawing it back around the mentally distressed boy. "It's okay Kyle, tell me what happened," he soothed.

Something clicked in Kyle's mind and he suddenly found himself angry with his friend. He had said it was okay twice now, but it clearly wasn't. He wouldn't fucking be feeling like THIS if everything was okay.

Kyle broke apart from Stan's grip to glare at him. "Is it okay, Stan? Is it?" He demanded, eyes narrowing.

Stan raised his hands in sudden defense. He didn't understand where the sudden mood shift had come from. Kyle didn't totally understand it himself.

"Kyle … what happened?" Was all Stan could think of to say.

But Kyle hadn't finished his rant yet. "Don't fucking TELL me everything is okay when it fucking isn't!" He exclaimed, cheeks reddening slightly.

"Okay, okay!" Stan exclaimed, disturbed by the turn around. "I'm sorry, Jesus!"

Kyle, seeing spreading concern all over his boyfriend's face, was able to let his anger spasm go. "I'm sorry," he whispered, again.

Stan reached out cautiously to touch Kyle's shoulder. Kyle shuddered slightly at this before seemingly shaking it off and moving back towards Stan, hugging him roughly. _'Good,'_ he told himself in his mind. _'Stan boyfriend. Love good.'_

Stan held him back before prying Kyle off of him to lead him into the family room, holding his hand. They sat down side by side against the couch, neither of them saying a word. Stan had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from interrogating Kyle.

Choosing to interrupt the silence, Stan instead leaned over to kiss Kyle's cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyle saw it coming, and out of reflex, he shrank away. Moments later, he realized what he had done, and felt a pang of shame and guilt.

Stan, completely confused and hurt that his boyfriend had just dodged a kiss from him, touched Kyle's cheek and forced the other boy to look at him. "Kyle, what's going on?" He demanded of him.

Kyle, face reddening from shame, swore at himself for treating Stan like this. He deserved better. "Sorry, it's nothing," he stated clearly before decidedly pressing their lips together. Stan welcomed the kiss back despite his concern.

Taking in the feel of Stan's lips and remembering how much he loved it, Kyle turned his body towards Stan's, kissing him deeper before pushing him back roughly onto the floor. Within seconds he was on top of him, attacking his mouth in a desperate, vicious way.

"Mm- Kyle, wait," Stan managed to break their lips apart for just long enough to say that before Kyle joined them again, sliding his tongue into the other boy's mouth and his hand roughly down his bare chest. Stan groaned slightly, and Kyle took the opportunity to pull down Stan's boxers.

"Ky, stop." Stan had to use both hands to pry Kyle's face away from his.

"Kyle, stop!" He exclaimed again after no avail, panting and yanking his boxers back up. "What the fucking hell is going on?" Stan shoved Kyle off of him, sitting back up. He pressed both of his hands to the sides of Kyle's face and brought their noses inches apart. "Fucking talk to me!"

Kyle's head was spinning. He thought Stan liked that sort of thing. He seemed to before. Why couldn't he do anything right anymore? What was WRONG with him? "Sorry.. I'm sorry," Kyle mumbled, eyes cast downwards. He should have stayed in bed.

"Ugh, Kyle!" Stan groaned, stroking Kyle's cheek. "You're freaking the fuck out of me dude! Stop being sorry, okay? Just talk to me!" Upon seeing the other boy's perturbed face, his voice softened some, and he lightly brushed their lips together. "Tell me what's going on, you," he said, looking directly into Kyle's turquoise eyes.

Kyle sighed loudly, rolling his eyes slightly and attempting a smirk. "I thought she had accepted me dude," he began, his voice sounding more bitter than the attempted drole. "I actually fucking thought she was okay with… us. She acted like she was." Kyle pulled Stan's hands away from his face and leaned back against the couch again, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"I was wrong, of course," he continued while Stan similarly joined Kyle, their sides touching ever so slightly.

"What'd she do baby?" Stan breathed in concern, the back of his mind forming potential murder plots to do away Kyle's mother.

"Ugh," Kyle stated off topic. "Don't call me that. I don't like it."

Stan frowned – he'd never had a problem with that before. "Uh…kay I won't," he affirmed, mostly for the reason that he wanted Kyle to stay on track with his story.

"Okay," Kyle said, deciding to let it out all in one breath. Just like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Or stitches.

"Ky?" Stan prompted.

"She thinks I'm sick, Stan."

"WHAT?!?!" Stan exclaimed, practically throwing his arms up in the air. "What the FUCK is wrong with that FUCKING-"

"She thinks I'm sick and she wants to cure me. She took me to some crazy Jewish religious psychiatrist this morning and she told me I'm fucking both of us over to Hell."

Stan, finally realizing Kyle's newest cause for distress, did not hesitate to grab the other boy by the shoulders, tilt him back ever so slightly and smother him in a passionate kiss. Kyle, initially shocked, grabbed at Stan's arms for support before finally closing his eyes and kissing him equally as passionately back.

They broke apart after a few moments, Stan's arms still keeping Kyle close. "Fuck… what the hell is wrong with her?" He gritted his teeth. "Why the fuck would she do that to her own son? I always knew there wasn't something right with that-"

"Stan!" Kyle withdrew and glared at his boyfriend. "Don't talk like that about my mom!"

Stan stopped, mouth hanging slightly open as his eyes shifted to Kyle's. He stayed like that for a few moments, completely speechless.

"Kyle…" he began once he had found his voice, "…how can you defend her?"

Kyle groaned, running one hand down his face. "Dude… she's my mom."

"Ky, it doesn't matter whether or not she's your mom, she's treating you like shit!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it," Kyle snapped, losing his patience. Didn't Stan see that this was his mother, and he was her son? He didn't want to lose her, what choice did he have in the matter? Suck it up and take it for a week.

"You could stay here… until you have to, you know, go back to Harvard…" Stan suggested carefully, arms tightening around Kyle's arms. Didn't he see that he didn't need to let his mother walk all over him, and treat him this way? No proper mother would ever put her loved son through this, Stan was certain.

Kyle shook his head and let out a mirthless laugh. "You think she'd allow that dude?" He asked snidely with a shake of his head. "No. Basically I have two scenarios: One, I stay there and let her fix me. Two, I stay there and take her trying to fix me until I get to go back to Harvard in six days. And I don't want her to fix me. Not really."

"Kyle, there is NOTHING to fix," Stan emphasized. "There is nothing wrong with you, or me, or us. Okay?"

Kyle snorted. "I'm sure a lot of people beg to differ."

Stan released Kyle's arms finally. "Kyle, Ky listen to me," Stan started. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. YOU know that there is nothing wrong with you, or with what we are doing. Why would it feel so right, if it was wrong?"

Kyle shrugged defeatedly. "I don't know dude. But I'm sick of everyone wanting to fill my head with their opinions. Even myself. I just want to… forget everything, you know? Just go somewhere where no one can bother me. Heh, like a real life happy place." Kyle lay back of the floor, hands behind his head.

Stan lay down beside his boyfriend. "We could find a happy place," he replied, resting a hand lightly on his stomach. "Just go somewhere together."

Kyle thought back to his former daydream. Just him alone in the fields. He turned his head towards Stan and found himself nearly nose to nose with him.

_Why didn't you call me? Where the fuck are you?_

Kyle felt a tingle go through his body. No- his happy place would best be completely alone. Not anyone. Outwardly, Kyle nodded and gave his boyfriend a small smile, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

Stan, betrayed by Kyle's false approval, beamed at his boyfriend and gave him a quick kiss on the nose. "I love you," he whispered against his mouth, wrapping his arm around Kyle's waist on the floor.

"Hey Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"You tried to call me, right?"

Stan grinned at this. "Heh, yeah I did. I didn't know where you were, dude."

Kyle, feeling another stab of guilt, felt compelled to further the question. "How many times?"

Stan shrugged, considering this. After a few moments, he seemed to have reached a conclusion. "Bout 20 times I guess," he replied, smiling again at Kyle.

Kyle wished Stan would stop smiling. That was a shitty thing for Kyle to do to him. Where the hell was his phone anyways? "I'm sorry," he told Stan.

Stan shrugged again, kissing the corner of Kyle's mouth. "It's fine, no worries," he decided. "You're here and alive, that's what matters most. But hey, out of curiosity, why didn't you answer?"

Kyle sighed. "I can't fucking find my phone anywhere," he said, annoyed at himself. What if his mother took it? Oh shit, what if she did?

"Stan, did you leave any messages on my phone at all?" Kyle asked, an edge of panic in his voice.

"One or two yeah, why?"

"Shit!" Kyle exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. "Shit fuck shit! Why? Why'd you do that?"

"Be…cause I didn't know you hated it so much?" Stan asked, with a hint of bewilderment in his voice.

"Shit what if my mom finds my phone and listens? Shit!" Kyle began mumbling in rapid fire a series of colourful curses.

"Kyle, relax!" Stan exclaimed, trying yet again to calm the wrecked nerves of Kyle Broflovski. "If you can't find it, I doubt she can!"

Kyle shook his head, dissatisfied. "No… no…" he murmured to himself, getting up to pace a little bit. "She… I…" Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He mumbled something to himself, and then spoke a little louder. "She doesn't love me."

"What? No Ky, that's not true…" Stan started, walking towards Kyle and giving him a backwards hug.

"No, she doesn't love me," Kyle restated, sounding more decisive. "You're right – if she loved me, she wouldn't do this to me. She'd like me no matter what."

"Kyle… she loves you, she just-"

"SHE DOESN'T FUCKING LOVE ME, STAN!" Kyle shouted, his voice ringing through the thankfully empty house. "DON'T FUCKING TELL ME SHE DOES BECAUSE I KNOW SHE DOESN'T! IF SHE DID THEN SHE WOULDN'T MAKE ME GO BACK TO THAT CRAZY FUCKING SHRINK EVERY FUCKING DAY THIS WEEK!"

"Kyle!" Stan exclaimed, worried and exasperated. "YOU don't have to go to that shrink if you don't want to! You shouldn't! All she's going to do is make you think you're crazy!"

"MAYBE I AM CRAZY!" Kyle retorted cleverly. "MAYBE I FUCKING AM AND MAYBE I NEED TO GET LOCKED AWAY LIKE SOME FUCKING

PSYCHO-"

"…Kyle, stop…"

"JUST SEND ME AWAY TO THE MENTAL HOUSE BECAUSE I'M A FUCKING FAGGOT AND FAGGOTS AREN'T RIGHT IN THE HEAD BECAUSE NO NORMAL MAN SHOULD WANT TO FUCKING TOUCH ANOTHER MAN LIKE THAT-"

Stan spun Kyle around to look at him, gripping his shoulders tightly. His face was screwed up and as red as his hair. "Kyle, calm the hell down RIGHT NOW-"

Kyle tried to shake him away, to no avail. "AND I'M JUST A FUCKING SICK FUCK AND I'M WRONG AND I'M WRONG AND I FUCKING HATE IT-"

"KYLE!" Stan shouted his name directly into his face, desperately trying to get his attention. He shook his shoulders. "Come on, snap out of it…"

"FUCK YOU AND FUCK ME AND FUCK EVERYTHING AND ALL THIS FUCKING-"

"Kyle, if you don't stop right now I am going to whack you," Stan threatened as a last resort. Not that he'd be able to follow through on it.

"LIFE AND EVERYTHING AND JUST FUCKING SHIT-"

It was not until that Stan raised his hand threateningly that Kyle yelped and shrunk away, immediately ending his nonsensical babble.

Stan, not wanting that reaction at all, immediately dropped his hand and attempted to comfort the now calmer boy. "Shh, shit I'm sorry," he whispered into Kyle's hair. "I wasn't gonna… you know I couldn't, I just needed you to be calmer, you were screaming like mad…" He held Kyle close against himself, not wanting to ever see that look on Kyle's face ever again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that…" There was a horrible feeling in the pit of Stan's stomach, like he had just committed some unforgivable crime. "You trust me, right?"

Kyle choked slightly, still shaken from the minutely violent action taken by Stan towards him. He had actually thought he was going to smack him across the face. He buried his face in Stan's shoulder, refusing to let the tears overwhelm his eyes.

"S-Stan…"

"Yeah, Ky?"

"D-don't ever do that again, okay?" Kyle stuttered, forcing his words out between sharp intakes of air. "When m-my mom kicked me out that night, she did that… raised her arm like that, like she was going to hit me…j-just don't do it again okay?"

"Okay, okay I promise I won't," Stan replied quickly, his own tears threatening to spill down his face. "I swear on my life… I swear on your life. I'm sorry…"He kissed the side of Kyle's head.

"Heh, because you love me, right?"

"Yeah. I love you so much… I didn't think you'd react like that. I'd never do it if I thought… fuck, your mom was going to hit you?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Looked like it."

Kyle and Stan stood still for some time, just holding each other. Kyle finally broke the silence. He decisively turned his head towards Stan.

"Make love to me," he whispered seductively into his ear.

Stan immediately tightened his arms around Kyle. "What?"

"Make love to me," Kyle whispered again, his face completely serious.

Stan's mind fumbled for a moment. "You mean like… sex?"

"Yeah."

"Now?!" Stan's mind was still beyond comprehending this.

Kyle, wanting to prove to Stan and himself that he wanted this, forced a small smile upon his lips. "Yeah… now. I want you. I know you want me too." Kyle drove his pelvis against Stan's gently and wrapped his arms around his neck.

"God… Ky, no…"

"Mmm, how long have we been together?" Kyle asked, purring softly into Stan's ear.

"Three months…" Stan trailed off.

"Three months," Kyle repeated. "Mmm, that's long enough, isn't it?" He started rocking his hips back and forth against Stan's in a sort of sexual dance.

Stan wrinkled his face for a moment, seeing as both his hands were occupied and he could not pinch the bridge of his nose. "Kyle, no. If we do that now… it won't be a good time. You're upset, I'm upset, you're confused… now's not the time to do that."

Kyle drew back enough so that Stan could see his face. Stan was supposed to go along with this. "I thought you said you loved me," Kyle unconsciously pouted.

"I do-"

"So? Don't you want to? It's first time for both of us."

"One day… yeah, but… Kyle, that day isn't today."

"But I…I want to…" Stan took a good look at Kyle's face, which plainly showed a mixture of desperation, hope and indecisiveness. Stan shook his head.

"No, you don't," he responded firmly.

"So?" Kyle quickly argued, dropping his defense. "I-if you loved me…" he began, realizing in the back of his mind with horror how pathetic he sounded, "…you'd want to."

Stan shook his head again. "Kyle, that doesn't even make a little bit of sense," he stated, wanting to get Kyle back into his normal state of mind. "There are other ways to show that you love someone."

"Like?" Kyle questioned. Sex was really the only thing he could think of at the moment. Sexsexsex.

"Like this," Stan responded, readjusting himself so that one arm wrapped around Kyle's face and another rested on his cheek softly. He proceeded to slowly kiss Kyle's mouth, nose and eyelids before leaving a final kiss on his mouth. "I love you," he spoke clearly and convincingly.

"Nnn…keep going," Kyle murmured, his eyes closed and his head feeling a little bit lighter. Stan smiled as he obliged, leaving a trail of little kisses down his neck before he kissed every feature on Kyle's face over and over again until he had him smiling naturally.

Stan left one final kiss on Kyle's lips, and without hesitancy Kyle kissed him back. "I love you too," he told Stan. And there was no doubt in Kyle's mind about this. Whether or not he was right or wrong in being in this relationship, he knew that at least he loved Stan. And Stan was in love with him.

"Stay here with me," Stan murmured, kissing Kyle's lips again while Kyle shook his head.

"No.. Stan, I gotta go home. My mom…" Kyle stated helplessly. "I have to."

"Ky…you don't," Stan was determined to argue his cause.

"Stop," Kyle muttered in reply. "I.. I've made my mind. And even if you don't understand why, at least respect that I have a reason, and that reason is my family. You don't get it because you never had this. Your mother accepted you in two seconds flat. Mine won't do that, but if there's any chance I can get her to understand over time… she's my mom, Stan," he finished. "I don't want to lose her."

"Fuck," Stan breathed. "Kyle…I don't want to lose you either because some crazy shrink bitch made you think this isn't good…I know a lot of shit has happened in a little time, but Ky," Stan set up his own reasoning. "Maybe you should be away from her for a little while, to get yourself back on track. And maybe she just needs some time to think about it."

"I intend to give her that once I go back to Harvard, Stan," Kyle pointed out. "In the meantime I'm going to be the son she wants me to be. Minus the gay, heh," Kyle laughed a little at this.

Stan was beginning to think himself a bit of a lost cause. "Kyl-"

"Hey, you know what?" Kyle interrupted Stan. "We're all just variables in this world. Everyone's a variable."

"…What now?" Stan inquired, not sure where Kyle was pulling math in from.

"I used to think some people were constant factors," Kyle continued. "My mom and my family was one… you were another. But all this made me realize… no one is constant. Everyone is a variable. Everyone on the planet. And no matter what you want to happen they're going to change on you. Some will always be there for you, but they'll still change. They can get hit by a bus, or meet someone else, and drift apart… and then others," Kyle swallowed, "can just drop out of your life completely."

"I'll always be here," Stan reassured his partner. Math was never Stan's strongest aspect but he could pull some sense out of what Kyle was trying to say at least.

"I know," Kyle replied, brushing the sides of their faces together.

"Iiiiii, will alllwaaaays loooooove youuuu," Stan murmured, cheesy and offbeat with a smile upon his lips. Kyle laughed at this before smacking Stan away, declaring him a retard. Stan laughed also. He then declared he was 'fucking starving', and continued to say he was making sandwiches and Kyle was getting one whether he wanted it or not.

They then sat by the TV for a good few hours, watching meaningless shows while sitting a few inches apart and eating their respective sandwiches. A few hours past, and eventually Kyle had to leave. Stan was highly resistant to this idea again, but ended in his defeat. Stan gave Kyle a quick kiss goodbye, and Kyle promised to talk with him tomorrow. He also refused to let Stan walk him home, again.

As Stan saw Kyle off, the worry in his stomach had yet to unclench itself. He smiled on until Kyle was out of sight before closing the door and almost immediately losing his sandwich into the kitchen garbage can. He then proceeded to let out every single curse word he learned as a child as well as several made up ones.

The day struck Stan as a sort of nightmare at least. All of these incidences were affecting Kyle in the worst ways, and yet he willingly walked back into the dragon's lair, despite the near certainty of ruin. He couldn't let Kyle be overcome by his mother's will or this supposed shrink's religious vomit. He wouldn't let them fuck over his boyfriend like that. Kyle loved HIM. And he loved Kyle. And anyone who was too blind to see that could go fuck themselves.

As Stan began to formulate new arguments in his mind as to why Kyle should not be at his home right now, one thing became apparent to him: Everything was not okay. And there was only so much a human being could take before they broke. Kyle was already showing cracks where Mrs. Broflovski and Dr. Thompson were getting to him. Could he handle a week of this disgusting torture?

And for the first time since it had started, Stan began to doubt the solidity of their relationship.

Meanwhile, Kyle was walking home alone, and very much wished Stan had walked with him.

oOoOoOo

Review? S'il vous plait?


	10. Mind Traps

Another update, instead of writing two term papers. Go me lol.

Now officially over half done this story. Many more events to come though. Reviewwwwz? Lol.

Chapter 10 – Mind Traps

Kyle woke up Monday morning with a stuffed nose and clogged head. After managing to force himself out of bed before his mom went to get him up in a small attempt to please her, Kyle trodded sluggishly to the bathroom with blurred eyes. Staring at the mirror, he groaned at his reflection. His face was flushed with fever, his eyes looked bloodshot and his lips were chapped.

Groaning again, Kyle began to slowly peel his sweaty pajamas from his body, tossing them carelessly to the floor. He felt uncomfortably hot, and after running a hand through his equally sweaty hair, Kyle decided a cold shower would help him feel better. Turning the water on and leaving it at nearly ice cold, he sighed in content as the frigid water came in contact with his sticky skin.

His nose and throat felt congested; Kyle coughed in an attempt to clear it but instead ended up having a small coughing fit. His cold was progressing, which really wasn't doing anything for his state of mind right then. All it was succeeding in doing was further swirling and confusing the whirlpool of thoughts that existed in his mind. Kyle held his head underneath the showerhead and moaned both in bliss and slight pain as the cold stream of water stung the back of his head and flowed down his face.

The cold bearing down on him, Kyle sank to his knees in the shower, letting his slowly awakening mind wander. He held his face directly to the spray of ice water, smiling as he felt it careening down his eyes, nose and sides before swirling into the metal drain on the floor. He opened his mouth, feeling the coldness seep in, cooling his insides. Kyle then moved to a sitting position, wrapping his knees against his chest with his arms as he was taken back into his thoughts.

The coldness of the water reminded him of the coldness of the snow from when his mother had ousted him from his home days before. The cold he felt now had been the same cold he felt then; it was a calm, pleasurable feeling, equating with the isolated impression that had surfaced in his thoughts at the time. The feeling wasn't so much a discovery as a confirmation that what he was feeling was indeed, real and that he was, in fact, alone. He could have fallen asleep there in the snow, letting the numbness set in, blocking him from his own thoughts and unwanted emotions.

Kyle opened his eyes, admiring his flesh which was covered in goosebumps, letting out a small laugh of content as he felt the cold streams drip from his hair, eyelashes and fingertips. He ran his hands along his arms, feeling the roughness of the cold bumps on himself. Feeling this coolness was so much preferable to feeling disgustingly hot, sweltering, suffocated.

Kyle remained sitting in the shower, losing track of time, until an angry call from his mother disturbed his senses and reminded him of his near approaching psychiatrist appointment. Finishing up, Kyle finally turned the water off in disappointment and stepped out of the shower. Looking at his dripping and shivering body in the mirror, Kyle smiled at the newer impression of himself. Instead of flushed, he was now pale and shaking. He could feel a headache coming on from sitting in the freezing cold for so long, but did not particularly care. He was away from the heat, at least for the time being, and he felt more awake. His eyes looked less bloodshot and the water and made his lips smooth again.

Drying himself off with shaking hands, Kyle managed to dress himself in clean and dry clothes and rub most of the water out of his hair with a towel. It made his hair frizzier than normal, but it kept him away from the blow-dryer which would ruin the cold sensation for him. He calmly stepped out of the bathroom and walked down the stairs, smiling at his annoyed mother who announced that they should have left ten minutes ago. She grabbed his arm, giving Kyle a moment to throw on a pair of shoes before hastily leaving the house. Kyle grinned as the cold air mixed with his cold skin and still slightly damp hair.

"Brr, it's freezing outside," Sheila commented to her son, wrapping her coat tighter around herself.

"I like it," Kyle responded mildly. He could already feel brief traces of his fever returning, but for the moment he was in a cold euphoric bliss. He smiled calmly at his confused mother, before moving his attentions to the outside snow covered world, barely aware of the changing landscape as his mother backed out of their driveway and headed towards Dr. Thompson's house.

It seemed as though the drive had lasted mere seconds. Kyle felt annoyed as the warmth of the interior of the woman's house seeped into his skin. "It's good to see you again Kyle," Dr. Renee Thompson welcomed, kissing the sides of his cheeks as though he was an old friend of hers.

"It's good to see you too," Kyle answered, not really paying attention. Samantha and Maya giggled and bounced more than usual. Maya took Kyle's hand and led him into the house while Samantha twirled in circles near her mother. Kyle suddenly became aware of the effect that the cold water had had on his achingly cold joints. He moved stiffly, although not painfully, towards the couch. The warmth was making his brain sluggish again.

Kyle watched Maya dance with her sister while Dr. Thompson chatted in a friendly manner to his mother. Dr. Thompson looked pretty today, Kyle decided. Her outfit matched that of her daughter's. He had never seen such a unified looking family before.

"I like your dresses," Kyle spoke to the two little girls, who giggled some more and twirled until Kyle became dizzy just looking at them. Samantha fell down and Maya helped her back up again, before they scampered off to find something more interesting to do.

They came back moments later, holding a beautifully engraved copy of the Torah. "Read to us!" Maya implored with doleful eyes, while Samantha was already making herself comfortable, placing her head in Kyle's lap.

"We love you, Kyle," Samantha stated, grabbing two of his fingers with her hand. "Will you read to us until mummy is ready to speak with you?"

Kyle smiled down at the beaming faces of two purely innocent and yet completely warped girls. Samantha's hair pooled in his lap while the childish face beamed up at him, and Maya was busy selecting her favorite passage. She gave the book to Kyle once she had found it and sat beside him, resting her head against his arm.

Kyle obediently read the part that Maya had selected, first in Hebrew and then translating the meaning to the girls in English.

"Hebrew is so beautiful," Maya sighed, closing her eyes. "I can't wait until I can speak it as well as you."

"You will one day," Kyle assured her. He continued reading for a few more minutes, until Dr. Thompson finally bid goodbye to Kyle's mother. As Renee bid her children off on another activity, Kyle brought his defenses back up again. Maya and Samantha really were sweet children, underneath the consuming religious beliefs of their household. He'd rather spend time talking with them and reading to them than spend time with their mother, whose career was based on proving to people that they were wrong.

Renee did not bring her paper and pen today. Instead, she sat beside Kyle and clasped his cold hand in her own.

"Are you all right, Kyle?" She asked, voice expressing concern. Kyle was thrown off by this; his own mother hadn't even noticed his apparent sickness.

"I'm not feeling too great, honestly," Kyle responded, appealing to her maternal instincts. "I woke up with a fever this morning. I think it's my cold."

Dr. Thompson placed a hand on Kyle's forehead, withdrawing it after a moment. "You feel cool now," she observed, along with the coldness of his hand. "But you look faint – are you up for opening up to me today?"

Kyle looked oddly at the woman, twisting his head slightly sideways. Why did she care how he felt? It was her job to make him straight, not act as a second mother to him. Now that it was mentioned however, he did feel weak – it took Kyle a moment to realize he had had nothing to eat that morning, as his mother had dragged him out the door before he had a chance to. Dr. Thompson was probably realizing the physical effects of low blood sugar on him. Was she really offering cancelling a session so that his health may improve? Despite himself, Kyle felt a rush of gratitude towards the woman. She was making a lot of sense, for once. Besides, wouldn't he be able to fend her off when he was in a better state of mind?

"I don't think I am," Kyle responded slowly, thinking about his wording. He had to be careful with this woman, he reminded himself; his own mother had two faced him, so trusting anybody would more likely than not just get him into more trouble and cause unnecessary pain.

Renee squeezed his hand gently. "It's alright, I understand," she told Kyle, smiling at him. "Being sick is never any fun. I'll tell you what, Kyle – instead of staying here and talking, why don't we go out and grab some brunch? My treat."

Renee's modified attitude confused Kyle to no end. She was obviously very intelligent, perhaps even more so than Kyle himself. He had no idea what she was trying to do, and he vaguely wondered how much his mother was paying her that she would spend money on him like that. On the other hand, if his blood sugar was low, having something to eat would definitely be good for him.

"What about your daughters? I thought you were taking care of them?" Kyle pointed out, glancing in the direction of the girls.

"My neighbours are lovely people, and they love the girls. I'm sure they wouldn't mind watching them for an hour or so; they have a little girl of their own, and my daughters are good friends with her. There's no need to fret about them," Dr. Thompson responded, rubbing the back of his hand. "We could be back before your mother returns to pick you up. I think the only question is, would you like to go out and grab a bite instead of staying here and talking, Kyle?"

Kyle considered this again. Eating definitely sounded better to him than talking. And it would give him more time to think of reasons why being with Stan was right for him.

"Alright," he responded slowly, granting the doctor a small smile of gratitude. Doctor Thompson smiled in return, hugging the boy briefly before standing up to call her neighbours. Kyle closed his eyes and let himself sink into the couch in relaxation. This would be better for him, he was sure. And this way, maybe he'd be able to rest some more when he returned home, and then maybe he'd be able to see Stan again in the evening. His boyfriend. His head felt clearer than the previous day, although still in turmoil. Perhaps he'd be able to make up for his previous behavior, and then everything would be all right again. Dr. Thompson would see his point of view, and then his mother would accept and love him, and he'd be free to stay with his best friend. Everything could still come out okay.

After a few minutes, Kyle heard Dr. Thompson informing her daughter of their visit with the neighbour's daughter, to which the girls responded excitedly. Kyle reopened his eyes, and stood up to put his shoes back on while Dr. Thompson prepared her daughters. Within moments Renee had her daughters dropped off next door, and Kyle and her were on their way in her car.

"I know of this lovely little place not far from here where we can eat," Renee gushed at Kyle, smiling at him. Kyle hesitated before returning the smile. The cold he had previously felt had since nearly completely left his body, and was now replaced with a sudden, although not intolerable, warmth. He remained silent for a moment, until Renee broke the silence.

"May I ask you a question, Kyle?" She asked politely, glancing over at him. This was again a change of pace – she had never asked if she could ask him something previously.

"Uh…sure?" Kyle responded warily. Renee was much harder to be angry with when she wasn't doing anything to anger him.

"What do you see in your…partner?" She worded herself carefully before spitting out the last word. Kyle suspected a question of this sort coming, and wasn't entirely sure if he should answer it at all. This woman did, after all, have connection to his mother.

After several moments of silence, Renee sighed and placed her hand back on Kyle's, keeping her attention on the road. "Don't worry about your mother, Kyle. She is a lovely woman, and she loves you very much. But I will not tell her anything that violates our confidentiality. I trust you already knew that."

Kyle sighed – Renee did have a point. She hadn't violated that practice, despite his mother's annoyance at this. Anyone who dared oppose his mother had to be worthy of something, didn't they? He closed his eyes, envisioning Stan and opting to find a way to express him without giving away his identity but showing Renee how strongly he felt for him.

"He…he's perfect," Kyle murmured softly, thinking hard. "He knows me like no one else does. He knows how I think. He knows how I work. He knows how to make me happy. He makes me happy. He…I love him. I love him more than I ever thought it was possible to love somebody."

"Hmm," Renee said, contemplating this. "Do you love him more than your family?"

Kyle groaned, surprisingly taken off guard by this. "Please don't make me answer that," he implored, fully aware how incapable he was of answering the question. It was impossible for him to decide between his family and his lover.

"It is just a question, no need to become upset with it," Dr. Thompson was quick to reply. "But… generally speaking. How would you answer that?"

Kyle thought again, indecisiveness plaguing his thoughts and the unfairness of the question. "He…IS family to me," he finally responded, satisfied with his answer.

"And he loves you too, Kyle?" Renee responded in the form of a question.

Kyle smiled despite himself. "Yeah, he does," he answered firmly.

"How can you tell?"

Thoughts of the previous day flooded back to Kyle's memory. He remembered the feeling he got in his chest every time Stan pressed his lips against his face.

"_I love you"…_

"_Nnn…keep going…I love you too"…_

"It's a feeling," Kyle responded after snapping out of his reverie. "I can see it in how he acts. It's undeniably there."

Dr. Thompson pondered this again, seemingly dissatisfied with Kyle's response. They remained quiet for a few minutes, until Renee pulled into the parking lot of a small deli.

"We're there!" She announced gleefully. "You'll absolutely love this place, Kyle, they have by far the best sandwiches I've ever tasted. The girls love them too." She stepped out of the car almost excitedly, and as enthusiasm has a way of rubbing off on people, Kyle reciprocated.

As Kyle and Renee entered the deli, a small bell let off a ding alerting the owner of a potential customer. Kyle looked around; the place was small but brightly lit, with a cheery air. There was a sign on the wall stating the day's special as 'Kosher Seasoned Chicken – $1.99/100g'. There were a few tables, and save for an elderly gentleman, and a young family of four, the place was empty. A teenaged boy was standing behind the meat counter; he couldn't have been older than sixteen.

"Morning, Mrs. Thompson!" The blond headed boy spoke with the enthusiasm of a dog begging to go on a walk. "How are you today?"

"I'm very well, thank you David," Renee responded with equal enthusiasm. At this she touched the small of Kyle's back ushering him further towards the counter. "This here is my friend Kyle. He is Sheila Broflovski's son, from our synagogue."

Kyle couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as David extended his overenthusiastic hand. How was it that Renee considered him as a friend? She didn't even know him. She had attacked him the previous day for his relationship; how could someone who's being paid to change you possibly be considered as a friend? Nonetheless, Kyle shook David's hand. He was obviously well meaning, at least.

"Nice to meet you sir!" He said courteously.

"Where's your father today? Out on an errand?" Renee said with a leisurely air.

David's nod very much resembled that of a bobble head. "He left me in charge for a few hours," he stated with a huge grin on his face. Kyle felt the air shift as its pressure focused on David to keep him from practically exploding with pride.

"Oh wow, good for you David!" Renee spoke approvingly, a tone that Kyle hadn't heard her use before. All it did was make the boy smile even more.

"Will it be the usual for you today, Mrs. Thompson?" David asked, his eyes darting between her and Kyle.

Renee nodded, smiling in a friendly way. "Two today, actually David," she corrected. "I'm recruiting followers here for you," she added, gesturing towards Kyle.

If it was possible for David to grin any bigger, Kyle thought, he had just found a way. He tried to keep from rolling his eyes at the spaz. He imagined the kid being left alone with no one to serve in the shop all day, and tried not to snicker at the image of the David running down the streets and bouncing off the walls.

David immediately set about his task. Renee looked over at Kyle again and smiled. "Excitable fellow," she commented in a friendly way. "He does follow in his father's footsteps though – I expect he'll take over the business once his father retires."

After several more moments, two wrapped sandwiches appeared in view. David rung them up on the cash register. "Anything else, Mrs. Thompson?"

"Two waters, please," Renee responded, once again ordering for Kyle. "Here, why don't you sit down somewhere with the food, while I finish up here," she suggested kindly. Kyle was quite glad to get away from happy David, and took the sandwiches, selecting a pair of seats by the windows. In a few moments Renee joined him with the waters.

"Just wait until you taste this," she said playfully, taking a sandwich and unwrapping it, "I haven't met a single person who hasn't liked these yet."

Kyle unwrapped his own slowly as Renee proceeded to take a bite of hers. He looked at it before taking a cautious bite. As he slowly devoured the sandwich, he couldn't help but be disappointed. For all that build up, he was expecting more. Not that it was bad; it was well enough, it just wasn't anything special. His own mother made better. He was pretty sure even he could make better.

"Yum," Dr. Thompson over dramatized, finishing the last of hers off. "The secret is in the basil, I think," she pondered.

Now Kyle was no chef, but he couldn't help but think there was nothing that tasted even a little like basil in the curious sandwich. "I think its more dill," he wondered out loud himself.

Renee smiled, fake realization plastered all over her face. "Oh, of course! That's what it is!" She exclaimed, balling up her wrapper and placing it into a nearby garbage can. "You're right." Kyle vaguely wondered why Renee was treating him like he just lost five years, but made no comment seeing as he didn't want to seem ungrateful for the free meal. And he WAS feeling better.

Renee had not finished talking, however. Making her way back from the garbage can, she sat back down and looked Kyle right in the eye. "But not everyone can be right about everything," she spoke clearly and decisively. "You're a good boy Kyle, as a mother I can tell. But even the best of people can make the biggest mistakes."

Kyle, feeling somewhat more at ease and awake than he had earlier, was taken by surprise at the mention of this. He looked around briefly; the other customers were paying no attention, to his relief. The last thing he wanted were complete strangers overhearing his personal life issues.

"How are you feeling, Kyle?" She asked kindly, taking his hand again.

"Better, thanks," he admitted, letting the woman take his hand for the umpteenth time. It didn't feel as terrible as it had the day before. Still uncomfortable and undesirable, but not as bad.

Renee smiled, before sighing. She squeezed his hand gently. "I'd like to have a heart to heart with you, Kyle," she began, speaking more carefully than she had the day before also. "Please don't interrupt; just hear me through. You can tell me what you think at the end. In fact, please do." Kyle nodded at this warily; in his mind, he made no promises.

Doctor Thompson smiled at him again. "You are eighteen years old Kyle, from what your mother told me. You are in your first year at Harvard University, studying to become a lawyer like your father. You must be very intelligent to get into such a program, and I'm sure your family must be very proud.

"However, you cannot know everything at this age. In fact, I believe it is impossible for a person to know everything there is to know. You must admit there is a great deal you do not know. You have never been in a real, serious relationship with a woman, Kyle. You cannot know this is how you absolutely are. Perhaps you are shy, or perhaps you had a bad experience with a girl in your past, but for some reason you have not sought out female companionship.

Doctor Thompson smiled warmly at Kyle, still holding his hand while Kyle continued to watch her warily, but silently, as she had requested.

"Kyle, I understand that you must be very confused. I think everyone is confused somehow during their teenage years. Finding the truths in these confusions helps develop people into what they become later in life, as a mature adult. But, Kyle, letting these confusions consume you while you are still developing into the next stage of your life will lead you astray, into the wrong. Shh-" she interrupted herself, seeing Kyle's mouth start to open, "Please allow me to finish what I have to say, Kyle."

"Why should I listen to people tell me I'm always wrong?" Kyle asked, defensive, not heeding her words. "How do they know I'm wrong? Maybe you're wrong."

Renee sighed. "It is written right in the Torah, and other religious texts too, Kyle," she began again. "Please allow me to finish. I was going to say that homosexuality is one of these confusions, Kyle. Letting something like this grab hold of your while you are still young and impressionable – and you still are, Kyle – will lead you astray in life. If these confusions are not resolved, not corrected in this stage, it will be much harder to break out of them later in life, when they have become developed."

"Homosexuality is an invented solution to these expressed teenaged confusions, Kyle. It will not help you find your place in the world. It will not help you to overcome your own personal weaknesses. It is, in itself, a weakness because it is an unnatural deviation of life. A man is meant to be with a woman, because with a woman he may reproduce, and create the miracle of life. And it truly is a miracle."

"Kyle, you are lost and confused, but you will find someone one day, someone who you will love and spend the rest of your life with, and have children with. And you will be so happy with her, more than you ever imagined. Your mother told me how she introduced Lia, from synagogue to you. And while I agree with you probably that her tactics were not the best, it was still an honest effort to help you find someone who you will fall in love with. Your mother does not have to choose this person for you, but Kyle, you must try to find someone on your own as well. No one can go through life alone, with no support. All that has happened is that you have looked for support in the wrong places. And while it is important to have both male and female company, it is only proper to pursue that sort of relationship with a woman. I believe that you know this, deep inside of you."

"This does not make you a bad person Kyle. Feeling these things for another human is itself, a natural thing. But it is when we take these feelings to the next level inappropriately that it must stop. This must stop, Kyle. The Lord does not wish this sort of fate for you. He wants you to be happy, and to be successful in life. You must find the path that He has chosen for you. And He wants your … partner to find his own path, as well. This person must be a good friend to you as well, since you express these confusions towards them. If you truly care about them, you will help them find their own path into the right. But you must do the same for yourself firstly, before you may help him." Renee paused here, taking in the confusion and traces of worry in Kyle's face.

Kyle did not even know where to begin; Renee had spoken so much in a short time period. He didn't notice that the elderly man and David had taken sudden interest in their conversation, and were guiltily listening in although trying not to at the same time.

"You… need to stop," Kyle spoke first, not sure at all of what to say. "I…I know this is right. I just want my mother to accept me for what I am."

"Kyle, you are eighteen. You cannot know what you are. This is not what you are," Renee spoke firmly, still holding Kyle's hand under hers. She looked down at him, almost in a condemning fashion, before smiling again.

"I love him," Kyle replied, overly defensive, feeling trapped beneath Renee's gaze. "I know I do. I love him."

"I do not doubt that, Kyle," Renee responded lightly, appealing to Kyle and disagreeing with him at the same time. "But you have mistaken the love of friendship, or of brotherly love, with romantic love. And that is not right. He has made the same mistake as you, and now it must be resolved. Perhaps, as a first step, you should think about ending the relationship, even for a short while, to help you gain some perspective. It would be for the best of both of you. Help him too, Kyle."

Kyle shook his head. "He'd hate me for that," he stated, imagining Stan's face if he were to do so absurd a thing as break up.

"Break ups are always hard, Kyle, but sometimes it is really for the best," Renee soothed, gently removing her hand from Kyle's and placing it instead on his back, "He may be upset at first, but in the end he will realize that you have helped the both of you by doing so, and who's to say a friendship would never blossom out of that?"

Kyle hung his head, avoiding Renee's eyesight. He suddenly wished he had never come out for lunch with this woman, who was so clearly bent on proving him wrong. But goddamn, she was doing a good job of proving it. Even if Kyle didn't agree with her, didn't think so. The Torah _did_ say that homosexuality was an unacceptable act. Would he abandon his religion and his family for a relationship with his best friend who might even stay his best friend afterwards?

"_And even if down the road, this doesn't work out, I will always be your best friend."_

Stan had said that himself, on the night that they had parted to go back to university. Was he predicting the demise of their short lived relationship? Kyle trusted that Stan had meant what he said. Yet he also suspected that Stan hadn't expected something like this to happen.

Kyle groaned, thought in turmoil once more. There had to be something wrong with him. His mother noticed it, Dr. Thompson noticed it, even Stan noticed it to some degree, with the way Kyle had been acting the previous day. Everyone thought he was messed up somehow. What if he really was? Was he really wrong? Stan had had three girlfriends in his past. Not just one, three. That had to say something about his sexual orientation, didn't it? Maybe he had been wrong to welcome any sort of advance from Stan. Maybe Stan had been wrong to initiate any sort of advance. What if Stan regretted their relationship?

"Kyle?" Renee spoke softly, her hand resting against his back still. Kyle raised his head to look at her. He saw a motherly kindness there, and a genuine concern.

"It's going to be okay," she spoke softly, trying to reassure the troubled boy. Kyle nodded vaguely, finding himself wanting to sleep much as he had wanted to day before. Either sleep, or take another brutally cold shower, to numb himself.

"I think I'd like to go home now," Kyle found himself saying distantly. His voice and body seemed separate from his mind at the moment.

Renee checked her watch. "Goodness, yes, your mother will be coming by to pick you up shortly," she agreed, picking up her purse. "We should be on our way back now."

As they left, David called out from behind the counter. "Best of luck to you, Kyle," he shouted warmly, smiling at him. Kyle sighed before shaking his head and continuing on his way, ignoring the boy. How was it possible that everyone seemed to know more than him? Renee shot an apologetic look at David before bidding him an equally warm goodbye. The ride back to Renee's house was quiet. Not long after they got back, Mrs. Broflovski arrived, and Kyle was traded off back to his mother. He fell asleep in the car not long after that, and awoke to find himself in bed several hours later. How his mother had managed to return him to his room, he had no idea.

Kyle had been resting for another hour before his mother wandered in with a late lunch. Feeling his forehead, she frowned and insisted on pressing a damp washcloth to his head. After another hour or so of rest, Kyle declared he was well enough to go pay his best friend a visit, whom he felt obligated to talk to.

Sheila only agreed to this on the condition that his stay be momentary, for two main reasons. Firstly, Kyle was sick, needed rest and did not need to make the entire Marsh residence sick as well. Secondly, it was family movie night and Sheila had rented a nice, good moralled, PG rated movie for the whole family to see. This was fine with Kyle; he needed rest anyways.

On the way back over to Stan's place, Kyle felt tempted to sit in the snow once again. The idea of the coldness still lingered as a desire in his mind. He resisted however, mostly because he was sure Stan would freak out if he saw him looking like he had a few nights ago, looking up at the stars.

Mrs. Marsh opened the door to her residence with a warm smile. "Hello, Kyle, how are you feeling?" She asked with an air of maternal love.

"I…I don't know," Kyle realized out loud, and feeling entirely apathetic about it. He didn't particularly care about making small talk with his boyfriend's mother at the moment. "Is Stan there?"

Despite Kyle's mild rudeness, Sharon welcomed him in, shutting the door behind him and running to fetch Stanley. The sound of cartoonistic screaming in the distant background stopped moments later before Stan appeared by the door, hurried.

"Kyle!" He announced overenthusiastically, wrapping his boyfriend tight in his arms. Stan was glad to have him back for the moment. He had come by his house earlier but upon knocking had not received a response. Kyle smiled sadly and returned the hug from his best friend.

"Hey, Stan," he replied softly, and he kissed him on the cheek, because he loved him.

"How's it going? Any better? Got her convinced about us yet?" Stan inquired, seeming to think that Kyle felt better from the day before, as he was willing to hold and kiss him.

Kyle sighed, shaking his head honestly. Upon leaning his forehead against Stan's neck, Stan jumped and swore. "Jesus Christ you're pretty hot Ky," he informed him. "Are you getting sicker from that damn cold? Maybe you should lie down."

Kyle bristled at this. Great, so now Stan didn't even want him around. "Okay, fine I'll just go then," he said, turning from his friend, annoyed.

"Woah woah, no!" Stan exclaimed, trying to correct his well meant comment. He turned Kyle back around to face him. "Don't go," he responded softly. "Don't worry, I still want you around Ky. I always do." He pulled Kyle back into his arms, holding him close. "Come in, stay a while. I want to know how you are."

Kyle shook his head gently. "I can't stay long, my mom wants me back soon," he told Stan.

"What, so she's fucking trying to keep you from me all the time now?" Stan felt his temper flare up despite himself. Why was it that Kyle's mother and Cartman were really the only two people in the world he was really able to be pissed off at? All he knew was that Kyle was always around his mom, and this one week break was supposed to be for them, too.

"She's not trying to keep you from me, Stan," Kyle retorted, offended. "And she can't just keep me around like that either, I have my own will too you know. I can do what I want too."

Stan opened his mouth, then closed it again. This wasn't going to take him anywhere with Kyle. "Come inside for a little while," he urged, pulling him by his hand. Kyle kicked off his shoes before allowing Stan to lead him inside, for a little while.

Stan led Kyle up the stairs to his room, where they'd have more privacy. He pressed his lips against Kyle's quickly, before sitting down on his bed with him. They sat there in silence for a while, before Kyle began on his own.

"Doctor Thompson is driving me crazy," he stated, looking off at the floor.

"What's she saying?" Stan asked, simply. He did not attempt to initiate any physical contact with Kyle; rather, he'd wait and see what Kyle did this time.

"Urg… same as before, that I'm wrong and need to fix myself and all that… but it was weird today, dude. She cancelled the session and we went out to eat, and she just talked to me. I didn't even really do any talking. I felt more like I was her child getting lectured, or something. She feels more like my mother than my own mother does." Kyle laughed bitterly at this.

"She knows that you and your mom aren't at the best right now, right?" Stan pondered. "Maybe she's using that to get to you."

Kyle frowned at this. Was that possible? "That's pretty low," he stated, adding the thought to the swirling whirlpool already in his brain. Could anyone really be trusted at all?

"It is," Stan agreed. "But I don't know, dude. Your mom's paying her to tell you you're crazy. That's pretty low in itself, isn't it?"

"Or she's just being paid to tell me the truth," Kyle murmured, letting the thought sink in. He closed his eyes, groaning.

"Kyle, you're not crazy," Stan murmured into his ear, sneaking an arm around his waist and the other around his stomach. Kyle leaned his head against Stan's shoulder, thinking. Everyone seemed to be telling him something else. He was being pushed one way and pulled another. It was too much for one person to bear. One person shouldn't have to bear all this. He didn't want to think about what was right or wrong. All he wanted to do was to be with the people he loved. But that wasn't possible, because the people he loved were at odds with each other, fighting over him. Why wouldn't they all just get along? Why would his mother only love him under certain conditions? Kyle's frustrations began to well up in his eyes. Why was everything so wrong?

"Hey Kyle," Stan asked, bringing him back to reality but keeping his eyes closed.

"Y-yeah?" He asked, trying to hide his shaking voice.

"Remember just a few weeks ago? How you drove up all the way just to see me?"

Kyle nodded slightly. "Yeah, I do."

"Remember how good that was? How happy we were?"

Kyle nodded again, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. "Yeah."

"We can have that again, Ky. This rough patch'll clear, with your mom." Kyle heard the hesitation in Stan's own voice, and it killed him. Why was he telling him that if he didn't totally believe it himself?

"How can you know that, Stan? What if it doesn't? What if she hates me forever? Why can't she just l-l….lll-" Kyle found himself unable to say anymore, as tears overwhelmed his voice.

"Love you?" Stan asked gently, and Kyle broke. He felt hot, frustrated tears flow down the sides of his face, and he angrily swiped them away before burying his face against Stan. He felt Stan's comforting hands wrap around his, rubbing his back as his body shook between breaths.

"Fuck, God Kyle don't cry," Stan implored, biting his own lip at his own frustrations. This had to stop. It had to. He'd do anything to make Kyle happy, and not suffer, but what good could he do if Kyle didn't want him to help him?

"I-I just want all t-this to stop-p," Kyle cried against Stan. "I d-don't like it and I don't want to be wr-wrong and I d-don't know what to d-do…" Stan couldn't stop his own tears from spilling down the sides of his face. He held in his breath, forcing himself to breathe calmly for Kyle.

"Nn…baby, shit I know you don't want to be called that sorry…" Stan trailed off before regaining his words. "Kyle…I'm here. I'll always be here. I l-love you so much," Stan cursed himself as his voice caught in his throat. "I do."

This just caused Kyle to cry harder. "I l-love you too but where has that reall-yy gotten us? Right here, rright where we are r-right now. W-which is bullshit!"

"Shhh, G-god no it's not Kyle," Stan replied shakily, feeling himself lose himself to his own tears. "M-most of what we've had has been good, Kyle, right?"

"I h-h-hate my li-ife," Kyle said instead, hiccupping between sobs.

"F-fuck," Stan breathed again. "I l-love you God I love you so much…" he held Kyle tighter against his own shuddering body.

It was then that Kyle looked up and saw Stan's own tear streaked face. Horrified, he held Stan's face between his hands. "D-don't cry Stan," he begged, still feeling tears run down his face.

Stan nodded at this, trying to do Kyle's bidding and get himself under control. His crying would only make Kyle cry worse too. He gently pushed Kyle's head back against his shoulder and continued to stroke his back, trying to make him calm down. They held each other for a good half hour before they were both reasonably under control again.

"I gotta go Stan," was the first thing Kyle managed to say in a calm voice, moments later.

"What? But you've only been here for a little while," Stan protested, not wanting to let Kyle go after all that.

Kyle shook his head vigorously. "My m-mom wants me home, Stan," he said, voice cracking again. "L-let me go please let me g-go…"

"Will you be back tomorrow?" Stan asked desperately, clutching him tighter. He was terrified that letting Kyle go now would mean letting him go forever, and he wasn't willing to do that. If he held him closer that'd mean he'd stay for a few more minutes…

"Y-yeah, I'll be back tomorrow Stan," Kyle responded, getting up to try to clean his face up a bit in Stan's mirror. He rubbed at his cheeks, which still felt hot with fever and tears. After a moment or two, he headed downstairs, Stan following. He shoved his boots on roughly, not caring how uncomfortable that made them, and threw his jacket on.

"I'll see you later," he said, eyes casted downwards.

Stan kissed Kyle's cheek once more. "Yeah, later," he said. "Love you." Kyle nodded and left, closing the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around himself, once more enjoying the coldness of the night as he walked home to his family.

Stan stood by the doorway and watched until Kyle was out of sight before he locked it. He stood there for a good while, looking out onto the streets.

It was not until Stan walked calmly up the stairs and into his room, shutting the door carefully behind him, and sat down on his bed where Kyle had been, that he really allowed himself to cry.

oOoOoO

Until next time. :


End file.
